


The Lily and the Crown

by Telanu



Series: The Lily and the Crown-verse [1]
Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Angst, F/F, Romance, Space Pirates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-06
Updated: 2013-04-06
Packaged: 2017-12-07 16:12:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 49,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/750438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Telanu/pseuds/Telanu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A science fiction (read: space opera) AU of The Devil Wears Prada.  Andy the nerdy botanist gets an unexpected new companion on her father's space station.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Luthien for the amazing beta read!

"Miranda the Pirate Queen" by  heartbeast

Andy was ever so pleased with how _barmensis nobu_ was coming along. Her petals were brilliant, lustrous, and evenly shaped; her leaves a full, flourishing, healthy green. She'd come a long way from being the skinny, scraggly little thing she'd been when Andy had acquired her.

Should Andy put her away? No. No, she'd leave her on the table. Doctor Phylyxas was bound to see her when he came in to inspect her collection, and while she might just be a simple little plant, Andy was proud of her. Dr. Phylyxas's book had said that oftentimes the simplest victories were the most rewarding, at least on an everyday basis. Sure, it was immensely satisfying to keep up an enormous garden, discover new plant species, all that, but what did you wind up seeing the most, day in and day out? The flower on your kitchen table. So you might as well do a good job tending to it. She hoped Dr. Phylyxas would notice _barmensis_ , and would realize she'd taken his lessons to heart. It was more nerve-wracking than she'd ever thought it would be, coming face-to-face with her idol.

It really was very kind of him to come--a Senior Royal Botanist like him. Andy's dad might be the most important official in this sector, but Andy was sure Dr. Phylyxas had many urgent demands on his time. They were opening a whole new wing of the Imperial Arboretum on the homeworld in less than a month. It was to be the most impressive wing yet. Andy thought it might be nice to see it someday. Not, she had to admit dolefully, that this seemed likely in the immediate future, with all the pirates marauding about. She'd been very relieved indeed to learn that Dr. Phylyxas's ship had landed safely in the hangar bay a few minutes ago.

Andy hurried out of her kitchen back into her living room, brushing aside various leaves and branches as she went. She reached her shelves and peered at her dozens of specimen jars. Yes, Cranli might do. The praying mantis waved his front legs as she took down the jar, no doubt eager to get back to his favorite plant. Well, he and _mustopher illis_ would have to endure their separation for a few hours longer. "I'm just going to show you to a very important gentleman," Andy said soothingly to him. "You're such a pretty little guy. And you do such incredible work in the garden." Cranli did not look appeased. Then again, Andy supposed it was hard to tell with a praying mantis.

Maybe she should take a few deep breaths. It was obvious that her nerves were making her go even weirder than usual.

Just then she heard the door to her suite slide open. Andy gasped and almost fumbled the jar. He was here already? That was fast. Then she heard the voice of a sentry saying--jeeringly!-- "All right, you. In you go. Enjoy yourself."

Andy's jaw dropped. Was that any way to talk to the Senior Royal Botanist?! Gripping her jar, she hurried back through the trees, vowing to have a very stern word with the sentry. But then the door hissed shut, and Andy realized she was too late. She winced and emerged past the last tall bush that separated her from her kitchen and living area.

Then she blinked in surprise. Apparently someone had…misinformed her about Dr. Phylyxas.

For one thing, he was a she. For another, she looked nothing like Andy had always imagined a Senior Royal Botanist would look. Not that she'd ever really thought about it. If she had, she guessed she would have imagined a portly, balding man with holo-spectacles, wearing tweedy robes.

But apparently Dr. Phylyxas was a tall, regal-looking female with short silver hair. She was looking around Andy's quarters with an expression on her face that was two parts wary and one part disgusted. She was no doubt horrified by the sentry's behavior in welcoming her.

"Oh, gosh," Andy said, and Dr. Phylyxas nearly jumped as she turned to regard Andy with wide eyes. "I am so sorry," Andy added, clutching Cranli's jar to her chest. The woman looked at it briefly before her gaze flickered back to Andy's face. Her own sharp-featured face was closed, cold, reserved. The look in her eyes kind of made Andy quake in her shoes.

"I--I'll speak to that sentry," Andy added. "I can't believe he was so rude to you."

Now Dr. Phylyxas looked surprised. "You can't?" she said.

Andy blinked at her. Had their outpost gotten a bad reputation for hospitality somewhere? She hoped not. It would be dreadful if Dr. Phylyxas had come here actually expecting to be treated that way. "Um," she said hesitantly, "w-won't you sit down?" She gestured towards the kitchen table. The sight of _barmensis nobu_ quickly revived her, and she beamed at Dr. Phylyxas. "I hope you'll like it." She pointed at the plant. "It took me a long time to perk him up, but I've been working hard at it."

Dr. Phylyxas looked at her, and then at the plant, with an utterly blank expression on her face.

Andy gulped, and then gasped. Bad hospitality, indeed. "Oh, gosh," she said. "I'm so sorry. I--do you want something to drink? I've got coffee. And tea."

"I--" Dr. Phylyxas shook her head quickly. It really was an elegant head. She was, in fact, an exceedingly elegant woman, even though she was dressed a little…simply…for a royal official, in a plain white dress that looked remarkably like what servants and slaves wore. Then again, it wasn't at all practical for a botanist to wear fine clothing--you spent so much time mucking around in the dirt and getting scratched by branches and thorns. Maybe Dr. Phylyxas had come to Andy's quarters in readiness to do actual work. The thought made Andy's breath catch in anticipation.

"Coffee," Dr. Phylyxas said, seating herself at Andy's kitchen table and giving Andy another, even warier look.

Well, that was sort of weird. "I…I grow and roast them myself," Andy offered. "The coffee beans. And the tea." She smiled again. "It's much better than what you'd get in the mess hall. I mean, if I do say so myself."

"Oh," Dr. Phylyxas said, looking back and forth between Andy and _barmensis_ as if she had no idea where she was. "Well. That's…" Then she looked Andy up and down, taking in Andy's dress which, Andy was only now realizing, was covered in dirt.

She felt her face turning its most brilliant red, and gave a feeble laugh as she brushed down her skirt with one hand. "I…I guess I don't look very formal right now," she said. "I mean…not that I ever do, really…"

"I'm getting that impression," Dr. Phylyxas said.

"Well," Andy said helplessly, "I was just--I've been awfully excited about your visit, so I've been working all morning, trying to get everything--"

"My visit?" Dr. Phylyxas looked astonished. Andy stared at her. Then Dr. Phylyxas added, "I think that you've mistaken me for somebody else."

"Huh? You--" Andy blinked. "You're not Dr. Phylyxas?"

"I'm afraid not," not-Dr.-Phylyxas said, resting her elbows on the table and crossing her ankles, looking almost amused.

"Oh, golly," Andy gasped, knowing that she was even redder now. "I'm so--you must have thought…um, I'll go get your coffee." Face burning, she plunged back into her garden, cutting branches from _coffea arabica_ with a trembling hand. Then, when she had the green beans in her hand, something occurred to her.

She poked her head back into the kitchen, where not-Dr.-Phylyxas was still sitting at the table, ankles still crossed, but looking positively boggled now.

"Excuse me," Andy said hesitantly, "but who are you, then?"

The woman opened her mouth to say something, but just then the door to Andy's quarters opened again.

This time, a portly, well-dressed man entered, followed by a sentry. Andy half-hysterically hoped it wasn't the rude sentry. The portly man looked exactly as Andy had expected him to look, right down to the holo-spectacles. He blinked at the sight of Andy standing in the middle of her kitchen with a coffee branch in her hand, and then looked down at the woman seated at the table.

"My goodness, Your Ladyship," he said to the woman at the table. "It's a pleasure to meet you. Ah, please don't get up."

"All right," the woman said, and indeed made no move to do so.

"Um," Andy said.

"I have to admit, I thought you were younger," Dr. Phylyxas added.

"My God," the woman said. "It's like watching a farce."

"I beg your pardon?" Dr. Phylyxas said.

"Excuse me," Andy blurted, "but I'm Lady Andren. Not her."

"I should say not," snapped the sentry, and both Andy and Dr. Phylyxas jumped as they turned to look at him. He was scowling at the woman at the table. "Get on your feet in front of your mistress. Or we'll whip your back to ribbons, and happy to do it."

"I wondered when we'd get to that," the woman said, and rose gracefully to her feet.

"I don't--" Andy looked back and forth between all of them. What had happened to the quiet, scholarly morning she'd hoped for? "I'm sorry, but what--who's--"

The sentry gestured in disgust at the woman. "She's Your Ladyship's new slave," he said.

Andy stared at him. "My…my what?"

"Captured off a pirate rig this morning," the sentry said. "Tiny little scouter. All killed but her--their serving-woman. And now she's your serving-woman, courtesy of your father." He glared at the woman. "Too stupid to know she's a lot better off now, if you ask me."

"I--I don't want a slave!" Andy said, horrified. "I mean--I don't need--"

"Well, they can come in handy," Dr. Phylyxas said. Andy turned to look at him in astonishment. He nodded towards the silver-haired woman. "Fetching and carrying and whatnot. I have four to help me maintain my personal garden alone. You'll be amazed how much easier everything is."

Andy looked helplessly at the woman. "Um," she said, "I'm sorry--but who--I mean, which pirates…?"

"Had the sign of the lily on the side of the scouter," the sentry said, sounding downright gleeful. "Mír's own private fleet."

Andy gasped and almost dropped the coffee plant _and_ the cricket jar. "Mír?" she said.

"Yes, Your Ladyship. Only a scouter, mind you. But every little bit helps, doesn't it?" He glared at the woman. "Bet your old mistress won't be happy about this, will she?"

"I should say not," the woman said.

"Oh, my goodness," Andy said weakly. The idea made her shudder, that a ship, even a tiny scouting vessel, from Mír's fleet had come that close to their station. Everyone knew the queen of all the pirates had no mercy and no shame.

"It's all right, Your Ladyship," Dr. Phylyxas said, and laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. "I'm sure you have nothing to worry about. This place seems quite well-fortified."

"Nobody's getting in here, Your Ladyship," the sentry added, and glared at the woman. "As your former masters discovered."

"To their cost," the woman said, her voice mild, but with something much harder to decipher in her eyes.

"Well," Andy said, laughing awkwardly. "Let's not…I mean…"

"Indeed, indeed," Dr. Phylyxas said heartily, his hand still on Andy's shoulder, which struck her as very odd. "Let's not trouble our heads about all that now. I've come here to see your garden."

"Oh!" Andy had nearly forgotten in all the excitement. "Yes, of course! Thanks," she added to the sentry. "That'll be all. Oh, wait." She frowned at him. "Were you the one who showed her in here?" She tilted her head towards the woman.

"Yes, Your Ladyship," the sentry said.

"Then I think you ought to apologize," Andy said sternly. All three of them stared at her. "Well, if you rescued her from a pirate ship, then she's obviously had a very hard time of it. There was no need for you to be so rude." She raised her hand to wag her finger for emphasis, and realized she was still holding a coffee branch with it.

Both the sentry and the woman looked at Andy as if she'd grown another head, but the sentry turned to the woman anyway. "I'm so very sorry," he said, dragging out each syllable for the maximum possible sarcasm. _"Ma'am."_

A smile played around the woman's lips. "Apology accepted," she said sweetly. The sentry scowled at her, and left.

Dr. Phylyxas finally took his hand off Andy's shoulder, clapped them, and rubbed them together. "Well!" he said. "An interesting start to our visit, wasn't it?"

"Yeah," Andy said, smiling weakly. "T-talk about strange."

She looked hesitantly at the woman, who raised her eyebrows. "Indeed," she said. "I've never been through quite so many cases of mistaken identity in a single day."

"Well--um--"

"My lady," Dr. Phylyaxas said to Andy, "I am most anxious to begin our tour."

"Oh, of course!" Andy said. She looked down at her coffee branch, and then at the woman. "Oh, gosh. I'm sorry. Would you, um, mind waiting for your coffee?"

The woman opened her mouth, closed it, and then spread her hands in a gesture that said, 'why not?'

"Great," Andy said, relieved. "Of course, help yourself to anything you can find. The bathroom's over there." She pointed to the bathroom. Then she beamed up at Dr. Phylyxas, vowing not to let anything else ruin her morning. "Shall we begin? Oh!" She held up Cranli's jar as she led the way back into her garden. "I thought you might be interested in this…"

Four hours later, Dr. Phylyxas had concluded his inspection of Andy's garden. He'd apparently enjoyed himself, and had many nice things to say about Andy's work, plus several suggestions that Andy vowed fervently she would take to heart. He also seemed to enjoy patting Andy on the shoulder a great deal, or putting his hand on her back. Well, maybe that was how they did things on the homeworld--people must be a great deal more urbane and sophisticated there. Andy certainly wouldn't know.

When he left, Andy offered him the plant on the kitchen table. The woman wasn't sitting there anymore, and Andy wondered where she'd gone. Maybe she was in the bathroom. Or had gone to stretch her legs.

Dr. Phylyxas took _barmensis nobu_ with a polite smile, and told Andy to look him up if she ever made it to the homeworld. "Always a pleasure," he proclaimed, "to meet a fellow enthusiast." Andy glowed.

Her glow lasted for about ten minutes after he'd left, when her door hissed open again, and the silver-haired woman stumbled inside, shoved by the sentry. "Get in there, you ungrateful bitch," he said, and then winced when he saw Andy. "Begging Your Ladyship's pardon for my language."

Andy stared in horror at the woman, who had a livid bruise forming on her cheek. "What happened?"

"Trying to run, wasn't she?" the sentry said, glaring at the woman. "Without so much as a by-your-leave. We all thought you'd sent her on an errand until we saw her heading for the hangar bay."

"Why did you hit her?" Andy demanded. "I'm sure she didn't mean any harm. Did you?" she appealed to the woman.

"Oh, no," the woman said, giving Andy another one of those inscrutable looks. "Perish the thought."

"There," Andy said to the sentry, "you see? You can go now."

The door shut behind the indignant-looking sentry, who no doubt wondered why Andy didn't share his barbarous outlook on life. Andy looked at the woman with concern. "You sit down," she said, and nodded at the kitchen table. "Gosh, that looks bad. Hold on, I've got some salve. I make it myself!" she added over her shoulder as she headed back into the garden.

She re-emerged a few minutes later holding a tiny pot. She unscrewed the lid, and dipped her fingers into the salve, reaching out to the woman's face. The woman looked back at her with such a stony expression that Andy gulped and offered her the pot. "Uh, m-maybe you'd rather do it yourself," she said.

"Thank you," the woman said neutrally, and took the pot, dabbing the salve over the bruise on her face like a pro.

She probably was. Andy trembled when she thought what this poor woman must have endured at the hands of the sort of people who worked for Mír. No wonder she was so distant. She'd undoubtedly been traumatized.

"It's not so bad here," Andy blurted. The woman looked at her. "I mean, it won't be like what you're used to. I won't let anybody hurt you, I promise." Then she winced at the bruise. "I mean…again."

"Oh," the woman said. "Good." She dropped the pot of salve on the table. "I'm sure it will be most pleasant, being your slave."

Andy gasped. "I don't--oh, please don't think of it that way." She clasped her hands. "I'm not…really, I wouldn't…um." She blinked. "I'm sorry. What's your name?"

"Slave," the woman said.

"Oh, come on," Andy said. "Please. Really. What is it?"

"What else could it be?" the woman said. "That is what the pirates do. Their slaves have no name but 'Slave.'"

"I'm not a pirate," Andy snapped. "Nobody here is. We're not like that."

The woman snorted derisively. "Aren't you?" she said. "You will have a hard time convincing me of that."

"I won't have to," Andy said stubbornly. "You'll see it for yourself."

"If you say so," the woman said.

"But what's your name?" Andy pressed. Then a horrible thought occurred to her. "You do have one, don't you?"

"No," the woman said.

"Oh my goodness," Andy said, and filled with righteous indignation. "That's terrible!"

"Is it?"

"Of course it is! Everybody's got the right to have a name!" Andy thumped her hand on the table. "We'll just have to give you one. How about, um--" She glanced at the spot on the kitchen table where the flower had been resting. "Barmensis," she said. "That's the flower I had sitting here. She was really pretty. How about that?"

The woman looked utterly appalled. "You are not," she said, "calling me 'Barmensis.'"

"Oh," Andy said, and bit her lip. "Sorry. I guess I should let you pick it, huh?" How thoughtless could you get? You didn't name people like they were pets. No wonder the woman expected no better out of life, if that's how people treated her. "I'm sorry," she said again. "I'm, I'm not around slaves too much."

"I would never have guessed," the woman said.

"I don't want one, either," Andy added. "I think it's awful. Um. You…you don't have to stay with me, if you don't want to."

The woman glared at her. "And where else would I go?" she said. "If not you, they'll pack me off to somebody else. I belong to your father, not to you."

"Oh," Andy said, blushing. "I guess that's right."

"I have no name here," the woman said. "I want none."

"Well, I am not calling you 'Slave,'" Andy said, trying very hard to sound firm. It didn't come naturally. "So…um…how about…" Her face lit up. "Assistant!"

The woman blinked. "Assistant?"

"Sure," Andy said, suddenly excited. "Dr. Phylyxas was right. You can help me in the garden." She clasped her hands together. "Oh, I'd really appreciate that. I mean, if you wouldn't mind. I'm working on this big new project, and it would be really nice to have another set of hands--"

The woman looked down at her own hands. Andy could see they were slender and elegant, like all the rest of her, but also roughened from work--in a few places, anyway, like she was used to holding one thing in particular all the time. Like Andy was, with trowels.

"I'm working on developing a cross-strain between two different pea plants," Andy added. "Dr. Phylyxas said it sounded really interesting. It's never been done before, either. I'm hoping to come up with a totally different kind of pea."

"Really," the woman said.

"Yes. Hardier than the other two. If it can thrive in harsher climates, then maybe people in rougher environments can…can…" Andy's voice trailed off, and she flushed. "…and you don't care. Like, um, everybody else. Sorry. I didn't mean to rattle--sorry." She took a deep breath and tried to smile. The woman kept looking at her, her own face expressionless. "So," Andy said timidly, "if you don't want a name…is 'Assistant' okay with you?"

"I don't see why not," the woman--Assistant--said dryly.

"Good," Andy said, and gulped. "I guess--oh. Did you want your coffee? And oh, gosh. You must be hungry. I'm so sorry, I wasn't even thinking." She stood up quickly, and then swayed as the room spun around her. "Oop!" Assistant stared at her. "Sorry," Andy said for the millionth time, steadying herself on the back of her chair.

"Are you all right?" Assistant said, although she made no move to help Andy.

"Oh, yeah," Andy said, waving her hand. "I guess I'm hungry too. I forgot to eat this morning." She blinked. "And this afternoon. And last night too, I think. I was really busy. Sometimes I don't even think about stuff like that, when I'm into a project." She gave Assistant a quick look. "But you won't let me forget, will you? I mean, if you get hungry, don't hesitate to say something. I've probably just forgotten all about it."

"I see," Assistant said. "Don't worry. I will not forget to remind you if my stomach is on the line."

"Oh, good," Andy said, and gestured at the kitchen cabinets. "I think I've got some ration bars in there."

Assistant's jaw dropped. "Ration bars?" she said. "Aren't you the stationmaster's daughter?"

"Yes," Andy said, nonplussed.

"And you're eating ration bars?"

"They're fast," Andy protested. "I told you, I'm in the middle of something important."

"You don't cook?"

"No," Andy said. "I mean, I try sometimes, but I'm no good at it. Um…we can call for something from the mess, if you prefer."

"I definitely prefer," Assistant said flatly.

"Oh," Andy said, feeling very foolish.

"That's the intercom?" Assistant said, rising to her feet and heading for the box on the wall.

"Yes," Andy said. "You--uh--why don't you call for two plates? If you want. I don't know what they're making today."

"I'll take my chances, if the alternative is ration bars," Assistant said.

"O-okay," Andy said, and looked longingly back at her garden, where the plants never tried to talk down to her or make her feel dumb like people did. "I'll…I'll just be working back there. I can show you everything later, after you've--we've had something to eat. Oh," she added quickly, "I don't think you should try to leave again. The sentries aren't very nice and they might be looking for you."

"I've worked that out for myself," Assistant said. Her eyes were flat and cold. Andy gulped, and ducked back into the foliage with profound gratitude.

No. This day had not turned out at all like she'd expected it would.

* * *

It was not until four days later that Andy found the courage to ask Assistant a question.

They were hard at work in the garden. The past four days hadn't been that bad, really--strange, yes, but not bad. It was odd, but kind of nice to have someone else to help in the garden. Assistant was a natural at taking charge of things, and everything went much more quickly and smoothly with her there.

It felt less lonely, too, to have another person around. Andy spent so much time in her quarters that sometimes it was easy to forget that anything existed beyond them. But Assistant's presence was nowhere near as intrusive as she would have imagined, if she'd ever imagined such a thing, which she hadn't.

Andy was definitely eating more now, though. Neither was Assistant shy about saying when it was time to give up work and get some rest. Of course, she didn't eat or sleep until Andy did, so Andy was trying very hard to be more thoughtful about such things, but it was nice to be reminded. Assistant slept on a small bed in an alcove away from the garden. Andy had her own bed, of course, a bigger one, but more often than not she slept on a cot near her beloved plants. They were her home, her dearest friends. Why shouldn't she be near them?

Assistant didn't get Andy's love for her plants, Andy could tell. Well, nobody did. But she worked without protest, although Andy could tell that she wasn't really content. Restless, that was the word. Like she was waiting for something. But she didn't seem to hate Andy or anything; in fact, she seemed more bewildered by her than anything else. Sometimes even amused. Andy got the feeling not a lot of things amused Assistant, so she wondered if it might not be a kind of compliment.

Therefore, on the fourth day, Andy felt marginally confident enough to ask, "Assistant? What was it like? Living with pirates, I mean."

Assistant gave her a sharp look. The bruise on her cheek had nearly faded completely. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, what are pirates like? What do they do all day? I mean, when they're not…" Andy gestured vaguely with her trowel, and threw dirt on her own chin. "You know. Marauding and stuff." She wiped her chin off.

"Chiefly they're going between places where they maraud," Assistant said. "I understand there is also drinking and whoring involved. For some of them." She dug her own trowel forcefully into the dirt. "Not the ones I lived with, however."

"Whor…" Andy gulped, and blushed. Grasping frantically for a different subject, she said, "Did you ever see _her?"_

"Her?"

"You know. Mír." Andy kept her voice low, out of reflex. It was silly, but for two decades Mír had been used as a story to frighten children. Be good, or the ruthless pirate queen will snatch you away in the dead of night. Andy herself had gotten various versions of the tale when she'd been young.

"What about her?" Assistant inquired, lifting an eyebrow.

"Did you ever see her?" Andy repeated. "Nobody has. No free person. She's never on the holos. Nobody even has a voice recording."

"Yes," Assistant said. "From what I understand, she takes great care that this should be the case."

"Well, some people even say she's not real," Andy said. "Because nobody's seen her, you see. That she's just a story to frighten kids and somebody else is in charge of the pirates. Or several somebodies. Pirates-by-committee," she added, inspired.

"Oh, she's real enough," Assistant said, turning back to the dirt.

"So you saw her?" Andy gasped.

"No."

"Oh." Andy deflated. "Then how do you know she's real?"

"I know. You pick things up, out there."

"Is she as bad as people say?" Andy asked, her hands trembling just thinking about it. "Th-they say she never lets anyone go."

"True enough," Assistant said. She looked Andy dead in the eye. "She wouldn't spare your pretty face, I'll tell you that."

"Oh," Andy squeaked.

Assistant stabbed her trowel into the ground as she dug. "So you should be very, very glad that you are in such a sheltered," stab, "protected," stab, " _well-guarded_ place."

"Hey, be careful," Andy said, reaching out to still her hand. "You'll damage the bulbs." Then she realized that Assistant had gone stiff beneath her touch, and pulled her hand away quickly.

They worked in silence for a few moments. Then:

"You think I'm pretty?" Andy said timidly.

"Oh, for God's sake," Assistant said.

"Sorry," Andy said, looking into the nearest packet of seeds, her face burning. "I, um, is it time for lunch?"

"Past time," Assistant said, stood up, and stomped towards the intercom, trailing sod as she went.

* * *

Assistant seemed rather miffed after that. Her replies to Andy's instructions were clipped and short. But she did as good a job as she always did, and soon enough they had all the bulbs planted by the next day.

"I think they look good," Andy said happily, and glanced over at Assistant, who was looking right back at her instead of the plants. "D-don't you think?" Andy added. "I, I think we did a good job." Assistant only looked back at her stonily.

"Look, I'm sorry," Andy said. "About asking you yesterday. About the pirates. I know you probably don't want to remember it." She bowed her head.

"Why do you never leave your quarters?" Assistant said.

Andy looked up at her, startled. "Huh?" she said. "I mean, I do, sometimes."

"I've been here nearly a week," Assistant said. "Not once have you left these rooms."

Andy blinked. "Well, I get busy," she said. "I've always got something going on in here. Oh." Her eyes widened. "You've been going stir-crazy, haven't you?"

"Just a bit," Assistant said.

"Oh, no," Andy said, genuinely penitent. "Of course you have, I didn't realize. Come on, let's get out of here. Let's go for a walk. I know! The Observatory." She brushed down her dirty apron. (Assistant had been making her put on aprons instead of crawling around the garden in her clothes.) "We've got some great telescopes. I like astronomy, you know, when I'm not working with the plants."

"Head in the stars, hmm?" Assistant asked, with a gleam of actual amusement in her eyes.

Andy smiled at her. "I guess so," she said. "Do you like stars?"

"Love them," Assistant said, and for once she sounded sincere. "Especially star-charts."

"Oh." Andy blinked. "Really?"

"Really," Assistant said firmly. "Are there any in the Observatory? To be perfectly honest, I'm not one hundred percent sure where I am."

"Sure!" Andy said, delighted to stumble on something Assistant actually enjoyed. "Dozens of them. I'll show you."

"How kind of you," Assistant said.

She definitely liked the star-charts. In fact, she paid much more attention to them than she did to the actual stars outside the Observatory windows. Andy watched how she flipped through them, missing no detail, and realized for the first time just how smart she really was. Oh, she'd never thought Assistant was dumb, of course: she was much too well-spoken. Sharp-tongued, even. But this woman bent over the star-charts obviously had a keen and fine mind.

"We can come back here again," Andy offered. "As often as you like."

Assistant gave her a long, considering look. "Thank you," she said neutrally. Then she added, "You are very generous in how you treat a slave."

Andy blushed. She didn't like thinking of Assistant as a slave. "Really," she said, "don't say things like that. Please."

"But you are," Assistant persisted. She tapped a star-chart with her finger, though her eyes never left Andy's face. "You are far kinder to me than Mír would have been to you. For example."

"Well," Andy said, laughing awkwardly, "I'm not exactly a pirate queen." She couldn't meet Assistant's eyes, for some reason, so she looked down and fiddled with her sleeve. "I mean, why shouldn't I be nice to you?"

"Why not, indeed," Assistant said. Andy looked up, and saw that Assistant was smiling. To her surprise, her heart thumped pleasantly. "I'm trying to imagine the sort of pirate queen you'd make."

"A lousy one," Andy said. "Oh, I'd be awful." Assistant chuckled. Happy to see this, Andy continued, "I don't think pirate queens get much chance to grow plants or do experiments. And they probably have to be, you know." She swallowed. "Harsh."

"That they do," Assistant acknowledged. Then, to Andy's surprise, she added, "But not always." She tilted her head to the side. "Even Mír can be gentle, or so I've heard. When she wishes."

"Well, of course," Andy said, and tucked a strand of hair behind one ear. "I guess everybody can. I mean, I hope everybody can. Nobody can be horrible all the time."

"As you say," Assistant said, and looked back down at the star-chart.

Andy glanced at a clock on the wall, and gasped. "Oh, gosh!" It was nearly time to-- "We've got to go turn the lamps on, or the _dellinses_ won't bloom!" She closed the book of star-charts with a thump.

"But--" Assistant began.

"No time! Come on! We'll come back later, I promise!" Andy grabbed Assistant's arm and hauled her to her feet, hurrying towards the door. Now Assistant wasn't smiling. She had the same look on her face that she often got when dealing with Andy: plain and simple bafflement.

Andy had no idea why. It wasn't like she was that complicated.

* * *

Two nights later, Andy was obliged to leave her quarters again. She wasn't anywhere near as excited about it this time. Assistant had to accompany her. Andy got the feeling she wasn't happy either.

It was a banquet, of the kind her father occasionally threw for visiting dignitaries. Andy hated them. She had to get all dressed up and be awkward in front of dozens of people and try to remember which spoon to use.

"Surely you were taught basic etiquette," Assistant said in obvious disbelief, her voice carrying through the bedroom door as Andy struggled with her dress.

"What? Oh, not really," Andy said. "I mean, my mom died almost thirteen years ago, and ever since then Dad hasn't had much to do with me." She swallowed hard. "Which is fine," she added quickly. "I mean, I keep really busy, you see."

"Yes, I see," Assistant said.

Andy emerged from her room, tugging self-consciously at her skirt. It simply wasn't fair. Here she was, the stationmaster's daughter, practically unable to dress herself. And Assistant looked like an empress from the moment she got out of bed to the moment she retired back to it at night, no matter how much dirt she'd knelt in.

"Do I look okay?" Andy said.

"You have leaves in your hair," Assistant said. "Check the mirror."

"Oh, no," Andy sighed, and headed into her bathroom, picking samples of _barbissa noctes_ out of her hair. "I wish I didn't have to go to this stupid thing."

"I admit, I'm having a hard time seeing you chatting with ambassadors' wives," Assistant said.

"Oh, I never talk," Andy said quickly. "I mean, unless somebody tries to talk to me. And then they never want to hear what I have to say, since I don't want to talk about politics or anything, so it doesn't last too long. Thank goodness."

"Really?" Assistant seemed truly surprised. "You're quite the little chatterbox in here."

"Oh, I don't mind talking to you," Andy said earnestly, dragging a comb through her de-leafed hair as she exited the bathroom. "You don't make me feel like I'm stupid. Much," she added, in the interests of honesty.

Assistant looked even more surprised. "Of course you're not stupid," she said, and gestured at the little forest in Andy's quarters. "Just look what you've done here."

Andy shrugged. "Nobody cares about what I do in here. Maybe they will, though, when I finish work on that new pea. It might be of use to somebody." Which was all she wanted, really: to be of use. Not just to be the weird girl who played with plants all the time.

"Perhaps it will," Assistant said, her voice unwontedly kind. But when Andy gave her a quick look, her face was as blank as ever.

* * *

It only took a few minutes for Andy to remember why she hated these dinners so much. For one thing, everything was much too noisy and out-of-order. For another, all the slaves had to kneel by their masters' sides, which Andy had always thought was really stupid and embarrassing, only now it was even worse because she had one of her own. So Assistant knelt by the side of her chair, and Andy could practically feel the rage emanating from her body.

"We'll leave early," she promised. "I'll say I have a headache. I can get away with that sometimes, if I don't do it too often." And she hadn't done it the last time.

Assistant did not reply. Andy did what she usually did at these events: kept her head down and listened to people talking around her, hoping nobody tried to talk _to_ her.

Tonight, the conversation centered around one particular topic: the odd lack of activity from the pirates. Mír's ships had not been spotted in days. Anywhere. Scuttlebutt was that her fleet must have hidden itself in some out-of-the way, abandoned station, though nobody knew why.

"It's not as if she suffered a big loss recently," a woman said, sipping her wine. "At least, not that I've heard about."

"I don't like it when she's this quiet," Andy's father said, from the head of the table. Everyone turned to look at him. He didn't look well tonight: pale, and kind of tired. He often did, these days. Andy tried not to think about it. "Nobody with sense does. She's planning something."

"Do you think so, Lord Geiker?" asked a man to Andy's left.

"Of course she is," her father said, looking surprised that the man had even needed to ask. "That's what she does. That's who she is. Vicious animals don't suddenly become tame."

"I hear your people captured a scouter of hers," another woman said, and the excited murmurs rose all around the table. Andy immediately bit her lip and darted a glance at Assistant, who was holding herself as still as stone. Sure enough--

"Yes, but there was only one survivor," Andy's father said. He pointed at Assistant. "My daughter's new slave, right there."

Andy winced as everyone turned to look at Assistant. But Assistant did not cringe from their stares; she met them with her own, cold and unafraid.

"Did she have anything to say?" said the first woman, excitement in her voice. "Was she able to give you any useful information?"

"Unfortunately not," Andy's father said, shaking his head. "She was a slave on their ship. We questioned her, of course, but she said she knew nothing. And you know our lie detectors are never wrong."

"Oh, the poor thing," another woman said, looking sympathetically at Assistant. But it didn't quite seem like real sympathy. It didn't seem like what Andy felt when she thought about what Assistant must have endured--something that was both sweet and painful.

Assistant's own expression did not change one jot. The woman looked less sympathetic then, and glanced at Andy as she said, "I hope she realizes how lucky she is!" Then she turned back to talk to the woman seated next to her, and thankfully, everybody's attention was off Andy.

Well…almost everybody's. "Do you keep her busy?" inquired the man on Andy's left, pointing at Assistant as if Andy might think he was talking about somebody else.

Thinking wistfully of excuses about headaches, Andy managed, "She…she helps me in my garden. She's really good at it."

Of course, the man didn't ask her about her garden. He just wanted to know about her slave. Typical. "I've always felt that a woman of rank should have at least one house slave," he said. He glanced down at Assistant again. "Not bad. How old is she? She looks healthy enough."

"More than enough," Assistant said softly.

The man raised his eyebrows and looked displeased at this bit of insolence. "Well, she's definitely in need of discipline."

"Oh, um," Andy said.

"How often does she need whipping?" the man asked, in the same tone as if he'd asked what Andy's favorite food was.

"I--I don't whip her!" Andy gasped, horrified. "I'd never do that!"

"Your prerogative, of course," the man said, raising his eyebrows. "But she'd obviously benefit from it." He glared down at Assistant. "I know her kind. She takes advantage of any kindness you show to her. I hope she won't make you regret it."

He reached out to touch Assistant--take her by the chin, pet her hair, something like that. Andy saw Assistant take a deep breath, saw her bare her teeth--

"No!" Andy blurted, and raised her own hand, ready to slap the man's hand away from Assistant. Then she realized what a diplomatically awful idea that was, and she turned the motion into a weak finger-wagging at the surprised man. "I mean, I'm sure I won't regret it. I mean, please don't touch her." The man stared at her in astonishment. Andy quickly stood up, attracting the attention of everyone around her. "Um. I'm sorry. I have a headache. Please excuse us both."

Then she fled her seat, hearing Assistant rising to her feet behind her. She only stopped by her father's seat at the head of the table.

"Sorry, Dad," she said, and bent to give him a gentle kiss on his cheek. "I'm not feeling very well tonight."

Her father raised an eyebrow. "Again?" he asked, his voice soft enough that only she could hear. Andy gave him a guilty smile. He glanced to where Assistant was making her way to his seat, watching them both. "How does your slave suit you?"

"Oh, she's…" Andy's voice trailed off. Why had her father even given her a slave in the first place? "She's fine," she finished weakly.

"Tell the kitchen slaves to send some of the feast to your room," her father said, and patted her hand. "No need to go hungry tonight."

Andy smiled at Assistant, who'd drawn up within hearing range. "Oh, she never lets me go hungry," she said to her father. Assistant only raised her eyebrows and did not look the slightest bit deferential in the presence of the stationmaster.

"Good," her father said. He added to Assistant, "Don't let her run herself into the ground."

Assistant did not reply. Andy awkwardly patted his arm, wishing she could say as much to the slaves who cared for him. She might not see or speak to her father very much, but he was her father, and she wanted him to be well and happy.

Neither Andy nor Assistant spoke until they reached Andy's quarters. Then, when the door shut behind them, Assistant exhaled a long, hissing breath. Andy looked at her, and saw that she was shaking with the fury she had been containing for the last hour.

"I…I'm sorry," Andy said. "I--um--I'm sorry about--"

Assistant gave her the fiercest, angriest glare Andy had ever seen. Andy actually cowered at it. "Do you remember what you told me?" Assistant said softly. "That nobody here was like those horrible, nasty pirates? That you would never treat your slaves like that?"

"I…I…"

"How often do I need whipping, anyway?" Assistant said. "Tell me that. I'm interested to hear your opinion."

"No!" Andy said, appalled. "You know I'd never do that. Don't you?" she added hesitantly.

"Not you, perhaps," Assistant said, and began to prowl the room. "You're unusual. I'll give you that." She glanced at Andy. "Why?"

"What?"

"Do you know how I felt, when they told me I was a gift for the stationmaster's only daughter?" Assistant said. "What I envisioned you to be?"

"No," Andy said in a small voice.

"A spoiled brat. Rolling around in wealth and luxury, never having known a hard day's work, utterly ignorant of the realities of life--" She paused, and looked Andy up and down. "Well. One out of three isn't bad, I suppose." Before Andy could offer any kind of protest, she continued, "But you are not. You're--I don't know what you are. I've never seen anything like you." Andy hoped that was meant in a nice way.

"How is it," Assistant added, "how is it even possible that a girl like you has grown up in a world like your father's--and you have no idea how to treat a slave? That you react with such surprise when a fool tells you to beat me?"

"Well, you know I don't go out much," Andy offered feebly. It took all of one second to see that Assistant would not be satisfied with that. So Andy swallowed hard, and continued, "My mom died when I was about seven years old. And my dad never had much to do with me. Like I said." Assistant nodded. "So I was raised by, you know, servants. And slaves. They took care of me. I was used to doing what they said."

"Not to ordering them around," Assistant said, her eyes going wider with sudden understanding.

"Right, exactly," Andy said, relieved that she'd caught on. "I mean, I never thought of them as, as _slaves._ They were the people who helped me grow up and told me what to do. But we, um, moved around a lot, and we never took anyone with us. So when I was fifteen I told Dad I didn't want any more slaves or servants. I figured I was old enough. I just wanted to be left alone and tend my garden."

"Which you've done," Assistant said. Then she added, "You're not like your father. I knew that right away, when I saw him."

"My dad doesn't beat his slaves either," Andy offered.

"Oh," Assistant said. "Well, good for him." Andy gulped and wished she could think of something helpful to say.

"Your Empire," Assistant said suddenly, "is the most useless power structure in all of creation."

Andy stared at her. "What?" Where in the heck had that come from?

"You heard me," Assistant said, striding over to the nearest window and peering out at the stars. She clasped her hands behind her back. "Perhaps it was great, once. Generations ago. But what has your Emperor achieved lately, hmm? You tell me. Why has he left the defense of the Empire to the outposts--to men like your father?"

"Nothing's wrong with my dad!" Andy said at once.

She saw Assistant roll her eyes in the reflection of the window. "It's getting easier and easier for pirates to breach your defenses out here. And the Empire is only as strong as its weakest point. Any half-decent strategist knows that from birth."

"Well…I guess," Andy said.

"And it's rotting from the inside out. Do you think pirates are the only threat?" Assistant continued. "Or the threat of the Kazir only a system away…have they told you those are only fairy stories too? Like the wicked pirate queen?"

Andy blinked. "The Kazir? But they're not a threat. They haven't made an attack in ages. Everybody says so. The holos…"

"The holos," Assistant snorted. "There is one military force out there that is capable of withstanding an attack from beyond the Empire's perimeter. And that is the pirate fleet. The rest of you are sitting ducks."

"Well, they've been quiet lately," Andy said. "The pirates, I mean. Like everybody was saying at dinner."

A muscle jumped in Assistant's cheek. "Yes," she said.

"So--so maybe there's nothing to worry about," Andy said, and wrung her hands. Then she added timidly, "Why are you so upset?" Assistant stiffened. "It's because of what that man said at dinner, isn't it? I'm sorry. He was a creep."

Assistant's shoulders remained rigid for a moment--then they relaxed, and she actually gave a rueful chuckle. "On that we agree."

"We don't have to go to another one of those for a while," Andy said. "Maybe next time you can pretend to be sick and I can leave you here."

"Maybe so," Assistant said. Then she frowned at the door. "Wasn't someone meant to be bringing us dinner?"

"Oh!" Andy said, and smacked herself on the forehead. "I forgot to stop and ask the people in the kitchen--"

Assistant glared at her and stalked to the intercom. "You don't need a slave," she said. "You need a keeper."

"You're doing a good job of that," Andy said, suddenly feeling incredibly shy. "I--I mean, I really appreciate--not that you have a choice, and you haven't been here that long, but--" Assistant looked at her with that flat, guarded expression. "I can't even remember what it was like without you," Andy finished in a rush. "That's all I wanted to…sorry. Thank you."

"You're welcome, I'm sure," Assistant said. Her voice was as dry as ever, but there was something Andy couldn't read in her eyes.

* * *


	2. Part Two

The chime went off at the fourth hour. Time to monitor _cambrensium_. Andy pried her eyes open with a groan. She loved her work, she really did, but every once in a while it was tempting to sleep through an alarm.

Not this time, though. _Cambrensium_ deserved just as much attention as everyone else, and if he didn't get his nutrient infusion, his grafts weren't going to come out well next week. Too bad Andy couldn't do this herself. This was an ambitious project that she'd only undertaken now that she had a second pair of hands. And she hated to wake Assistant up in the middle of the night, but it couldn't be helped. Oh well. It was just this once, and they could sleep in later in the morning.

She rose from her cot and stumbled sleepily over to Assistant's alcove. Assistant was wrapped up in her bedcovers, her brow puckered fiercely. She was mumbling a little. Evidently her dreams were not pleasant tonight. Well, maybe she wouldn't mind getting up after all.

Andy reached out, and then hesitated. She didn't, as a rule, touch Assistant. Not deliberately. Oh, sometimes when she was passing her a tool, or that one time she'd grabbed her in the Observatory, but that was rare. There was something about Assistant that said, 'Hands off,' and Andy tried to respect it. Even if sometimes she maybe kind of wanted to touch Assistant. For reasons she didn't really understand.

All the more reason to say, "Assistant?", in a soft, timid voice instead. But Assistant didn't wake up. "Assistant," Andy said more loudly, feeling very foolish. Also as a rule, she didn't call Assistant 'Assistant' very much, because it sounded silly. But what else was she supposed to call her? Assistant didn't have a name. And Assistant still wasn't waking up.

No help for it, then. Andy sighed, reached out, and shook Assistant by the shoulder. "Assist--"

Then she was on her back, the breath driving out of her lungs as Assistant flew out of the bed like a thing possessed and shoved her to the ground. "Whu," Andy began, but couldn't manage anything else because Assistant's left hand was around her throat while the right had clenched into a fist and was swinging towards Andy's face.

It stopped about an inch from Andy's nose, and froze. Andy, who had stopped breathing entirely, stared in pure shock into Assistant's wide, wild eyes. "Uhrk," she managed.

Assistant let go of her at once and sat back on her heels, breathing quickly. Her eyes glittered and color sat high on her cheeks.

"What," Andy wheezed. "What was--"

"Don't wake me up," Assistant said. "Don't do that."

Andy raised one shaking hand to touch her throat. "You…I…"

"I could have hurt you," Assistant said, her eyes no less wild, although she was wide awake now. "I could ha--do not do that again, do you understand?"

"I," Andy managed, "I didn't, at first--I t-t-t-tried to call you, but you wouldn't…"

"Do. Not. Do. That. Again," Assistant said.

"I'm sorry," Andy whispered. She was. And scared. She'd had no idea that Assistant was so strong. Or so fast. Or, apparently, so lethal.

But that was obviously what you had to be, to survive among pirates. What must Assistant's life have been like, if those were the reflexes she'd developed--if her response to being woken up was to attack somebody?

"What did you want?" Assistant said. The wild look had left her eyes, and her face was already reassuming its usual guarded placidity.

"W-want?"

"You woke me for something, didn't you?"

Andy tried very hard to remember. Her head was spinning and her throat hurt. " _Cambrensium_ ," she managed. "Infusion. Nutrient infusion. It's…it's almost past the hour--"

"Oh," Assistant said, and stood up. "I--you mentioned that last evening. I'd forgotten." She glanced down at Andy. "Shall we, then?" she added, as if they were going for a stroll, and disappeared into the foliage of the garden.

"Y-yeah," Andy said to nobody, and sat up carefully. No pain, nothing was broken, she'd just had the wind knocked out of her. Well, that was a relief. She got to her feet as quickly as she could, and followed Assistant into the garden.

It wasn't until Assistant was perched gracefully on a higher branch while Andy took the readings at the roots that Andy felt comfortable enough to say, "So…it looked like you were, uh. Having a bad dream. Maybe?" She bit her lip and looked up and realized that from here she could almost see up Assistant's skirt. Not much, nothing too, nothing too, but anyway she could see her calves, both slender and muscular, and the paleness of one thigh.

"I was," Assistant said in a clipped tone that recaptured Andy's attention immediately.

"Do you, um," Andy said, and licked her lips. "Do you want to tal--"

"How are the readings coming along?" Assistant said.

"Oh." Andy kept her eyes very, very carefully on the monitor. "They're fine."

* * *

They never referred to the incident again. But Andy made very, very sure never to wake Assistant up personally. She got Assistant her own alarm chime for when they had work to do in the middle of the night. And if something unexpected ever came up, then…well, Andy didn't have a contingency plan in place for that, because really, nothing unexpected ever did come up in her life. Except for Assistant, of course.

Andy gave her a wary look as she potted a bulb, and decided that in that unlikely event, she'd just chuck a pinecone at her head or something. From a safe distance.

In the meantime, though, Andy had noticed something rather disturbing. Something else involving safe distances, and keeping them from Assistant. And how maybe she possibly didn't want to.

Assistant was beautiful. Really beautiful. Okay, so she had a big nose, and was kind of a lot older than Andy. (Andy still had not dared to ask her how much older.) And even besides the nose, her features were pretty…sharp. But she never made a move that wasn't graceful, and she looked more naturally regal than any of the women who'd ever attended Andy's dad's banquets. Once or twice she'd even smiled, and Andy had seen her perfect teeth.

And her eyes were a really pretty blue. Mostly they were cold and watchful, but every once in a while, they could light up with warmth, however fleeting. Like when Andy had realized that the cross-strain of the new pea was working, and, about to pop with excitement, had hurried to tell Assistant, who was re-potting a _freniumis_. She'd babbled on for whole minutes without stopping, occasionally even hopping up and down, until Assistant had risen to her feet, gently taken away the trowel Andy had been waving wildly, and told her to take a deep breath and wash her face before they had dinner. Which, far from being a let-down, had made Andy feel a little bit squishy inside because of the warmth, yes, the real warmth she had seen in Assistant's blue eyes.

Also she had lovely arms and shoulders. And, from what Andy could tell, shapely legs. Those thoughts made Andy's face burn, though, and the rest of her skin too, and sometimes her hands shook and she almost dropped things. But really, it wasn't Andy's fault that no matter how old she was, Assistant looked good enough to--

"Eat," Assistant commanded, tapping Andy firmly on the shoulder. Andy gasped and looked up at Assistant before she could stop herself, even though she knew her own face was red. Could Assistant, _did_ Assistant know what Andy often thought about? She seemed to have the uncanny gift of reading minds. But, as always, her face gave nothing away.

"I let you skip breakfast," Assistant said, and Andy realized she hadn't even noticed that she'd been working straight through morning. "But I called for lunch. It's on the table. Come along."

"Oh. Thanks," Andy said, and rose shakily to her feet, following Assistant out of the garden.

"Wash your face and hands first," Assistant ordered. Andy twitched guiltily. She had learned very quickly that Assistant tolerated dirt and slovenliness in the garden just fine, but that beyond the garden, people were meant to both presentable and hygienic. She hurried to the bathroom.

They ate in silence for a few moments. Then Assistant said, "Why does no one ever come here?"

Andy swallowed--Assistant also hated it when she talked with her mouth full--and said, eloquently, "Huh?"

"I have never seen a soul in these quarters other than the two of us. Except for the day I arrived, when you were talking to that fat botanist." Assistant tilted her head. "Not that I'm pining for visitors, but it strikes me as odd."

Andy looked down into her food. "Odd?" she said, trying to keep her voice light. "Why should it be odd?"

"You're a young woman," Assistant said. "Your father is the stationmaster. There are nearly twenty thousand occupants of this station. Why am I the only person you speak to, day in and day out?"

"I…I…"

"What society did you have before I arrived?"

"I just don't talk to people much," Andy mumbled, still staring down at her plate.

"You handle yourself fine when we go for walks," Assistant pointed out. "It can't be simple agoraphobia."

"I'm not agoraphobic!" Andy said, and finally looked up to glare at Assistant, who, cool as a cucumber, looked right back. "I just like it in here with my plants."

"As opposed to?"

Andy tilted her head towards the door. "Out there with them."

"Why?" Assistant, persistent and merciless, leaned forward over the table. "Why are there no friends who come to visit, no young men knocking down your door? How isolated can one person possibly--"

"Shut up!"

Assistant's mouth snapped shut, and she stared at Andy in obvious surprise. Frankly, Andy was surprised herself. She never spoke to anybody that rudely. But what did Assistant expect, implying that Andy was some kind of, of… "Nothing's wrong with me!"

"I didn't say there was," Assistant said, sounding cautious now.

Andy looked back down at her food. "My dad and I moved around a lot, okay?" she said. "I told you that. Almost every year he gets a new posting. Always a promotion," she added quickly. Assistant nodded, her expression never changing. "I, I mean, he's really good at what he does--but every time I made a friend…and, you know, I didn't make many." She swallowed hard and shrugged. "I never cared about what other kids cared about. I don't care about clothes, or music, or boys, or how I look. And I'm not very good at sports or games. I just like science. I like my plants." She stabbed her fork into a piece of celery. "My plants like me. They don't talk about me behind my back, or make me feel stupid and ugly."

"You are neither," Assistant said quietly.

"That's very nice of you," Andy said, and stood up, her lunch not even half-eaten. "I need, um, to get back to work."

"But surely you--"

"You take as long as you want to eat," Andy said, and hurried back into the garden, glad to disappear behind the leaves.

* * *

Later that afternoon, as Andy tapped the sap of _quercus alba_ , she said, "You know, if…if you're lonely here…I, maybe I could--" Could what? The sentries would never let Assistant walk around by herself after what had happened when she arrived.

"I was thinking of you. It isn't good for a person to be so much alone."

"I'm not, though," Andy said, keeping her eyes firmly fixed on the sap. "I mean…plants can't leave. I had to leave people all the time, so I found plants. They work really well."

"Plants," Assistant said, "are no substitute for people." She used the don't-argue tone of voice too, so Andy didn't argue.

Instead, she said, "Well, I…it's not like I never talk to people. I mean, now you're here."

Then she made a silent plea. That Assistant wouldn't say that wasn't good enough, wouldn't ignore what Andy was saying, would maybe even understand how much Andy liked her, relied on her--

"So I am," Assistant said, and Andy tried not to sag against the tree in relief.

They spent two whole hours in the Observatory that evening.

* * *

But Andy couldn't stop thinking about what Assistant had said. 'So I am.' It had made Andy feel better at the time. But maybe it shouldn't have. Maybe Andy was being a little selfish.

Sure, Assistant was, well, here. She didn't have much of a choice. And she was, not nice exactly, but good to Andy, and deserved a better shake out of life than she'd gotten. From being a slave to pirates to being a slave on a space station, and people talked about whipping her--of course she didn't have to worry about that with Andy, Andy would never let _any_ harm come to her--but well, it wasn't exactly anybody's ideal life, was it?

Two days after their talk, and after a great deal of careful (and painful) consideration, Andy made a rare journey beyond her quarters by herself. She told a curious Assistant that she'd heard a new shipment of plants had come in and was sitting in a cargo bay. "I just want to see them," she said, heading quickly for the door. "You stay in here. Just, um, relax." She was glad when the door shut behind her.

She didn't go to any cargo bays, of course. Instead, she went to her father's rooms, which were quite far away. It took her half an hour to walk there. When she arrived, she saw that he was resting and looked paler than he had the night of the banquet. Today, his smile was tired. "Good morning, Andren," he said, and turned his head so she could give him the usual, oddly formal peck on the cheek. "What brings you here?"

Andy wondered if other parents and children needed excuses to see each other. But all she said was, "Dad, I've come here about Assistant. My, um. My slave." She swallowed. "You remember? You met her at the banquet."

"Yes," her father said. "The one we captured from the pirate vessel." He smiled grimly. "I remember quite well."

"Oh," Andy said. "Well…yeah, her."

"Is there a problem?" Her father's gaze sharpened. "Is she disobedient?"

"Oh, no," Andy said quickly. It was the truth. It was hard to be disobedient if nobody ever gave you orders, after all. "She's, she's--I like her. A lot." She tried not to blush. "She's great."

"Then what is it?"

"I was wondering--I was wondering if--" Andy wrung her hands and looked at her feet. Why was this so difficult, when it was obviously the right thing to do? "Would you set her free?"

"Free?" Her father sounded incredulous.

"It's just, it doesn't feel right," Andy said, looking pleadingly at her father's surprised face. "She's not a piece of property. She's a person. I don't like thinking of her as my slave."

"But a slave she is," her father said, and added very firmly, "and a slave she will remain."

Andy blinked. "What? Why?" There were so many slaves on the station already. One more or less couldn't possibly make any difference. And here was Andy, making a proper, daughterly request and everything.

"I wished for you to have a companion," her father said. "And I saw at the banquet that you were happy with her."

What, that again? First Assistant, now her own dad--apparently everybody thought she was some kind of pathetic hermit. Andy blushed again, this time from humiliation. "I do like her," she said. "But I wish you'd set her free."

"I don't want you to be alone," her father said flatly. "You have been, for far too long, and now I'm…" His voice trailed off, and he repeated, "I want you to have a companion. If not her, then I will find another. And this one seems to suit you well."

"She, she does!" Andy said, wringing her hands again. "But, I mean--if you set her free--" She looked down at her feet again. "Maybe she might stay anyway," she said softly.

There was a long moment of silence. Then her dad said, kindly but with no yield in his voice, "I will not set her free. That is my final word on the subject."

But it made no sense! Andy opened her mouth to say so, and her father said, "Now, I need to rest. I have a great deal of work to do this afternoon. Give me a kiss, and don't worry so much." He tilted his head again and Andy, defeated, kissed his cheek.

Then she drifted along the corridors back to her own room. It took longer this time, because she was lost in thought. Not just over her father's odd behavior, but over her own reactions to it.

Sure, she was confused. And sorry that she'd failed Assistant. But other than that, buried deep, buried in a tiny little part of her that she still found shameful, she was relieved. She'd tried to free Assistant. It hadn't succeeded, though, and Assistant wasn't going anywhere. Wasn't leaving Andy. Like everybody else always did.

Of course, like Andy had said, Assistant might have chosen to stay anyway; after all, she had no money of her own, and once she was allowed freedom of movement, no doubt she'd have found plenty to entertain her on the station other than the Observatory and Andy's garden. But--well, now they'd never know. Assistant was staying. With Andy. Who'd done what she could, who'd tried, who couldn't be blamed.

When Andy returned to their quarters, Assistant gave her a long, cautious look. "You weren't gone long," she said. Andy glanced at a clock. Sure enough, only ninety minutes had passed. "I thought that an entire shipment of plants would keep you absorbed until lunch, at least."

"A shipment?" Andy said, wondering eagerly if such a shipment had indeed arrived. Then she remembered her lie and felt like a complete and total idiot. "I mean, yes," she added. "It wasn't--there was hardly anything there. Just a few ferns, practically." She laughed shakily.

"Where were you?" Assistant said. "Really."

Andy straightened her shoulders and tried to sound very firm as she said, "None of your business." Except that it was probably more Assistant's business than anybody else's. So when Assistant gave her an extremely pointed glare, Andy sighed, bit her lip, and mumbled, "I went to see my dad."

"Oh," Assistant said after a moment. "Is he unwell?"

"No. I mean, he doesn't look very good, but I'm sure after some rest, he'll…" Andy stopped, took a deep breath, and said all in a rush, "I asked him to set you free."

Assistant's eyes went wide. She looked positively stunned.

"But he wouldn't," Andy added quickly, suddenly realizing that she might have given Assistant false hope. Judging by the shadow that passed over Assistant's face, she had. "I'm so sorry," Andy said, and this time she really meant it. "He wouldn't listen to me. I don't know why."

A very faint, bitter smile tugged at Assistant's lips. "I do," she said. "Your father will never let me go. I am too dearly bought and paid for."

Andy blinked. "Huh?"

"Do you remember that I was the only survivor aboard the pirate ship?"

"Yes," Andy said.

"There were not many of your father's soldiers left either," Assistant said quietly. "The pirates were vastly outnumbered. But I assure you they did not go down without a fight."

"Oh," Andy said, feeling something cold settle in her stomach and chest.

"And there was nothing worth keeping on the pirate vessel," Assistant continued. "All the information had been destroyed in the databanks. There wasn't even any loot." She smiled again, and again it was bitter. "I understand they'd heard that someone important was on the ship. But again they came up empty-handed."

"Oh," Andy said again. "Um. H-how many people died? From the station?"

"Seventy-four, so I hear," Assistant said. Andy gasped. "And I was the only thing they got out of it. No. Your father will not be in a hurry to let me go."

Andy bowed her head. "I'm sorry," she said again. "I just thought I'd try."

"Don't think I don't appreciate it," Assistant said calmly.

"But you're--I know you don't like it. B-being a slave."

"You know very little of how I feel," Assistant said in her sharpest voice. Andy flinched. "But," Assistant continued more gently, "I am fully aware that I could be much worse off. Much, much worse."

"I guess," Andy said, and gulped. Wasn't that what she'd told herself a thousand times already? But somehow it was different when Assistant admitted it out loud. It made her feel a little better.

"I'll try to be less boring," she blurted. Assistant looked stunned again. Well, she often looked stunned around Andy, so that was nothing new.

But then she actually chuckled. "In order to be boring," she said, "you must first stop surprising me. You haven't done that yet."

Huh? That was a weird thing to say. Andy and Assistant did the same thing, day in and day out: working in the garden, sometimes going to look at the stars. There was probably nobody in the whole Empire more predictable than Andy. "Okay," she said doubtfully.

Perhaps Assistant was just being polite. There was a first time for everything.

* * *

Two days later, Andy made a decision. It was much harder and more painful than she'd thought it would be. But it was for the best. It was, she told herself.

At the fourth hour, Andy looked at Assistant, who was cutting samples from a young sapling, and said, "H-hey, you know what? Why don't we get cleaned up?"

Something in her voice must have alerted Assistant, because she instantly looked suspicious. "Why?"

"Oh. No reason. I mean, I thought we might go to the Observatory," Andy said. "I'm getting kind of restless."

"You have been jumpy," Assistant acknowledged. "Very well."

With relief, Andy said, "You go first." They had to take turns using the only bathroom. "I'll just finish up here. I won't be long."

As usual, Assistant was in and out of the bathroom in about five minutes, wearing her clean dress (she had two dresses, and rotated them in the laundry daily). She looked as immaculate as ever. But Andy couldn't quite resist reaching up and pushing her silver forelock out of the way, so she could see Assistant's eyes better. Assistant looked startled.

"What are you doing?"

"Nothing," Andy said quickly. "I just thought, you know, your hair…it'd be pretty if you did it like…"

"Pretty?" Assistant blinked.

"Yes," Andy said, and tried not to blush. She failed. "You have, you know, blue nice eyes. I mean nice blue eyes. It's good when people can see them."

Assistant narrowed her nice blue eyes. "What exactly is--"

The door chime rang. Andy jumped. Assistant twitched. "Oh!" Andy said. "It's still early!"

"Early? Early for what?"

Andy hurried for the door, only narrowly evading the grab Assistant made for her arm, and pressed the 'Enter' key.

The door hissed open to reveal a tall, well-built man, about Assistant's age, wearing the white tunic and black leggings of a male slave. He took in Andy's tousled hair and dirty apron with wide eyes, but only said, "I'm Orin, Lady Andren. I'm reporting for the work order you called in this morning."

"Great! Great," Andy said, and clasped her hands together, hoping her terror didn't show on her face. She turned to look at Assistant, who was staring at both of them as if they'd grown wings. "Orin, this is Assistant. She, um, doesn't have another name." Orin blinked. Assistant kept staring. "Assistant, you're, um, you're going to go help Orin with the cooling unit. You know, we haven't been getting water flow in here for the garden like we should, and I thought, who better to fix it than…"

She glanced back at Orin, who was regarding Assistant with no small degree of interest. Andy told herself that this was absolutely fine. Then she looked back at Assistant, and saw comprehension dawning in her eyes. Along with something that looked very much like horror.

"A-anyway, we don't have any more work to do tonight," Andy babbled, looking back and forth between the two of them and trying not to make any eye contact. "So, you know, whenever you're done, you don't have to come back right away."

"What?" Assistant said.

"She, uh, worked on a small pirate rig," Andy said to Orin. "I'm sure you two will have a lot to talk about."

"Talk?" Assistant said.

"We'll get the job done, Your Ladyship," Orin said. "Never fear." His eyes wandered back to Assistant again, and gleamed.

"Well," Andy said, trying very hard for 'chipper' and fairly sure she only managed 'deranged.' "You, um, off you go."

Orin inclined his head politely at Assistant, and stood to the side of the door, holding out his arm for her to precede him.

Andy was pretty sure Assistant was looking at her as she walked through the door, but she couldn't be sure because she kept her eyes on her feet. The door closed behind them, and Andy felt like her knees were going to turn completely into jelly. But they didn't, and she returned to her garden with an oddly heavy heart.

It was the right thing, she told herself. Certainly it was the right thing for Assistant. She must be bored out of her mind, stuck here with only Andy for company. And Andy only talked about dull things, so that just made it worse. Walks to the Observatory couldn't possibly be enough to entertain someone as smart and interesting as Assistant. Not every day. She'd need more than that, because she wasn't a social moron like Andy apparently was.

And of course, she was such a beautiful woman. She deserved to be with a man, to have that kind of pleasure in her life. Judging by the way Orin looked at her, it wouldn't be too difficult to accomplish that.

Andy gulped around the rock-hard lump in her throat and told herself to stop being so selfish. To be happy for Assistant, who would no doubt enjoy herself more tonight than usual. Andy had just given her the entire evening off, after all, and surely it didn't take very long to fix a cooling unit, did it?

Two hours later, Assistant still had not returned. Maybe it took longer to fix a cooling unit than Andy had thought.

Three hours. Maybe it took a lot longer.

Three and a half. Andy finally admitted that Assistant and Orin were almost certainly not fixing any cooling units now, and curled up on her cot, needing the comfort of all her plants around her.

For the best. Really. It was.

* * *

She woke up to someone shaking her fiercely, and also the drip of water.

When Andy opened her eyes, Assistant was looming over her, face twisted in rage, as she shook Andy back and forth like a rag doll. "Wake up," she snarled. "Wake up!"

Dizzy, confused, Andy thought that perhaps Assistant's evening might not have gone well, and became sure of it when she saw that Assistant was dripping wet and covered in mud. "Oh!" she gasped, and scrambled to sit up, which was difficult, because Assistant was still grabbing on to her shoulders. "Oh, my gosh! Are you okay? What happened?"

"Cleaning the cooling unit," Assistant said. "Have you ever, in your life, cleaned a cooling unit?"

"Uh…no…"

"It took five hours," Assistant roared, and finally let go of Andy, who fell backwards off the cot and landed in the dirt with a yelp.

"I--" she began, but Assistant charged on.

"Five hours--five hours of mucking around in water that was alternately freezing and boiling--with that disgusting oaf trying to feel me up every chance he got--" Andy whimpered and tried to scoot backwards on her behind, but Assistant reached down, hauled her to her feet, and shook her again. "What? What could you possibly have been thinking?"

"You didn't like him?" Andy said weakly.

"No," Assistant whispered, her voice as low and deadly as Andy had ever heard it. Their noses were about one inch apart. "No, I did not like him at all. And now he knows it."

"H-he does?"

"Don't worry," Assistant said. "I'm sure he'll tell his friends that he got his black eye and lost all those teeth doing something very manly."

"Oh--"

"And he didn't even know how to do it, I practically had to do the whole goddamned job by myself--"

"I'm sorry!" Andy wailed. "I didn't know--I, I thought you'd have fun--"

_"Fun?"_ Assistant let go of Andy again, and Andy crashed to the ground again, because for some reason her knees wouldn't support her.

She looked pleadingly up at Assistant. "You…when you asked me all those questions about why we never see anybody…I mean, aren't you lonely? Aren't you bored?" She gulped. "I just wanted to give you a chance to--to--" Then she hung her head, feeling like the most idiotic creature in the universe. "I'm sorry," she mumbled again. "I didn't know it'd be awful."

She kept looking at the ground. After a moment, Assistant sighed heavily.

"I am getting a shower," she said.

"Okay," Andy whispered.

"And I am sleeping in tomorrow. As late as I want to."

"I'm sorry," Andy said yet again. Then she looked up and blurted, "I'll do better next time. I'll find a job that won't be terrible, and someone who won't--"

It must have been difficult to look utterly, completely terrifying when you were soaked through with water and mud, but somehow Assistant managed it quite well. "Look at me," she said softly, as though Andy could look anywhere else. "There will be no next time. Period. That's all."

"Oh," Andy said, feeling about two inches tall.

"Go back to sleep," Assistant snapped, whirled on her heel, and stalked away, still dripping.

Andy fled the cot and retreated to the safety of her bedroom, where she huddled under the blankets and squeezed her eyes shut. But sleep, as she expected, eluded her completely.

* * *

The next day, Andy apologized with practically every motion that she made. She knew Assistant didn't have much patience with people who repeated themselves all the time, so instead she very penitently worked in the deepest silence until Assistant woke up, asked her with the greatest meekness to do easy and non-dirty tasks, called for breakfast and lunch herself, and made sure that the mess hall sent up Assistant's favorite kind of tea, even though Andy didn't like it nearly as much as the kind she grew herself. And she made very, very sure never to meet Assistant's eyes, although she constantly checked on Assistant when Assistant wasn't looking back.

Assistant did not speak to her. Not one single word.

But then, before dinner, Andy looked up, and saw Assistant looking back. Andy bit her lip, and managed a tremulous smile.

Assistant sighed, closed her eyes, and rubbed her hands over them.

"It's like kicking a puppy," she muttered.

"W-what is?" Andy said.

"Being angry. Being angry at _you_." Assistant glared at her fiercely. "I have very little difficulty being angry with most people, for the record."

"So you're not angry anymore?" Andy asked hopefully.

"I am no longer enraged," Assistant said. "You may consider me downgraded to 'peeved.'"

"Oh," Andy said in enormous relief, because 'peeved' was very near to 'normal,' for Assistant. "Good. I really am sor--"

"Don't say it. Do not say it."

"Oh. Okay. Sor--okay."

"And get those leaves out of your hair."

* * *

The next day, Andy emerged from behind a bush and caught Assistant looking at the jars on the shelves. Specifically, she was looking at Cranli's jar, where he rested on some leaves. And she was lightly tapping the glass and smiling at him.

Andy cleared her throat. Assistant twitched and turned around--it was the first time, Andy realized, that she'd ever snuck up on her. While she was awake, anyway. Andy grinned and nodded towards the jar. "You like Cranli too, huh? He's my favorite."

"He's just a bug," Assistant sniffed, her cheeks going the tiniest bit red.

"Okay," Andy said, still grinning.

"He reminds me a little of you," Assistant said. "Hopelessly friendly and trusting, once he gets to know you." She peered thoughtfully back at the jar.

Andy blushed with pleasure. "Do you want to put him on _mustopher illis_?" She asked. "He likes her the best. But he always comes back to his jar at night."

"Believe me. I don't care about a bug," Assistant said, but she opened the jar anyway.

"Sure you don't," Andy laughed, as Cranli hopped out and buzzed away.

"I really don't."

"You do. You like a bug. Who's your second favorite? I like Beliss. She's that pretty iridescent cricket. Very sociable. You two would get along great."

"Don't we have work to do? As in, immediately?"

"If you want," Andy said, and laughed again at the almost sheepish expression on Assistant's face.

* * *

Three days later, the latest quarterly issue of _Botany Today_ was released on the booknets. Andy eagerly downloaded it.

"No digging around today?" Assistant said. "My fingernails might die without their daily helping of filth."

"Today is for theoretical stuff," Andy said firmly. She didn't know what Assistant was complaining about, anyway: at her own insistence, they'd both started wearing gardening gloves. Andy glanced at Assistant and added, "Do you want me to read it out loud, so you can hear it too?" A shudder ran through Assistant's whole frame. That had probably been too much to hope for.

"What do you want instead?" Andy asked. Slaves weren't allowed to access reading materials on their own, so Andy downloaded anything Assistant wanted.

"Newsfeeds will be fine," Assistant said. "I do like to keep up with things."

"Oh! Sure," Andy said, and typed in her code for three of the major newsfeeds. "You know, if you remind me, I can get these for you every day. I just forget about stuff like that."

"Thank you," Assistant said, sounding surprised. "I will."

"Uh huh," Andy said, absently handed her a datapad, and settled down to read, already forgetting all about newscasts and whatever else.

"Oh!" she said, as she skimmed the table of contents. "Dr. Phylyxas has a big article!"

"How exciting," Assistant said, heading rather quickly out of the kitchen. "I'll be reading in my alcove."

"Okay," Andy said, and decided to save Dr. Phylyxas's article for last, by way of prolonging her enjoyment.

The Letters to the Editor section was always fun. Andy had even had a letter published there, two issues ago. That was how she'd caught Dr. Phylyxas's attention, and why he'd agreed to come visit her, at her father's urging, when he was in the area for a conference. After the Letters section, she read the News In Brief, and then an article about the very same conference Dr. Phylyxas had attended before visiting Andy. It sounded very exciting, Andy thought wistfully.

Maybe she'd go to the next one. Well…why shouldn't she? It wasn't nearly as dangerous to travel now, what with the pirates being so quiet. And Assistant was right--it was ridiculous to stay holed up in here all the time. Nothing said she couldn't get out of the station for her own reasons, instead of just trailing around the fringes of the Empire with her father. Maybe Assistant could even go with her. She'd probably jump at the chance, even if botany didn't exactly thrill her. That could be fun. A real adventure. Already tingling from the possibility, Andy turned happily to Dr. Phylyxas's article.

And read. And read.

And read some more, sure that she had to be mistaken in what she was reading.

At some point, Assistant returned to the kitchen, still holding her datapad. "This newsfeed is run by idiots," she said irritably. "Do we have any of that tea left?" Then she looked up and saw Andy sitting very still at the kitchen table. "What's wrong?" she asked.

"Wrong?" Andy said faintly, unable to take her eyes off the datapad.

Assistant reached down and took the datapad from her. Andy felt too stunned to protest. Assistant glanced over Dr. Phylyxas's article, brow furrowed in the same expression of blank incomprehension she always wore whenever Andy talked about botany. But then, as Andy watched, her eyes widened.

" _Pisum sativum_ ," she said. "Isn't that--in fact, isn't all of this--"

"It's a pea," Andy said, staring at the space on the table where the dapatad had been. She bit her lip. "My pea."

"I thought it looked familiar," Assistant said quietly.

Andy gulped. "I, I didn't finish reading the article," she said. "He, um…I don't think he mentions me, though."

"Did you tell him about this?" Assistant said. "When he came here?"

"Of course I did!" Andy said. "It's--it was my big project. And he's the Senior Royal--" She gulped. "I wanted to impress him, I guess."

"It looks like you did," Assistant said.

Andy looked up at her pleadingly. Assistant's face was, as always, impossible to read. "Why did he do that?" she said. "He's a brilliant botanist. He has so much he can do--he's so important--why did he steal my ideas?" Because that's what he'd done. He'd stolen them. _Stolen_ them.

"I daresay you are not the first person he's stolen from," Assistant said, speaking in the gentle tone she used only rarely. "People who get to the top are often gifted at that sort of thing." Then, suddenly, her voice got sharp. "Andren."

Andy blinked. She realized Assistant had never said her name before. "People will use you," Assistant continued. "Do you understand? That is what people do." She waved the datapad in Andy's face. The inscrutable look on her face was sliding into something that looked almost upset. "This man, this fat, brilliant botanist, is a thief. And he is no better or worse than anyone else."

"What?" Andy gasped. She stood up. "That's not true!"

"Isn't it?" Assistant said.

"I--I--" Andy shook her head. "No. That's awful. That's a terrible thing to say. I don't think people are like that."

"How would you know?"

Andy stared at her, wounded. Like Andy didn't already feel bad enough, now suddenly Assistant wanted to jeer at her? "I--"

"Get used to it," Assistant said flatly, and thrust the datapad back into her hands.

"I'm not going to get used to that!" Andy said. She drew her shoulders up straight. "I…I'm going to write a letter."

Assistant looked like she wanted to laugh in Andy's face. "A letter?"

"Yes!" Andy said, her face burning with humiliation and anger. "To the magazine. I'm going to tell them exactly what Dr. Phylyxas did. He shouldn't be allowed to get away with that."

"Well," Assistant said. "Do your worst."

"I will!" Andy said, feeling like she was about two seconds away from stomping her foot like a two-year-old. Or crying. "There's no need for you to be so--so mean about it." Assistant blinked. "Why do you care, anyway? You don't even like botany!"

"No," Assistant said. "I don't."

"So why don't you go back to your alcove," Andy said, "and not-like botany over there. I'll be in my room." Writing her letter. She stormed off, and didn't let the tears fall until the door was safely closed behind her. She even locked it.

She wrote her letter, and then wrote it again about five times. Wished she could ask for Assistant's advice on it. But she wasn't going to do that. No sir. Assistant thought it was a stupid idea, so she wasn't going to have anything to do with it.

After the sixth attempt, Andy tossed the datapad on her mattress and flopped back down on her bed, rubbing her forehead in an effort to hold off the headache that she knew was coming.

Someone knocked on the door. "What?" Andy called.

"I've called for dinner," Assistant said through the door.

"I'm not hungry."

"Stop sulking."

"I'm not--I'm not sulking! I'm _upset._ I'm allowed to be upset," Andy snapped at the door.

"Have you finished your letter?"

"Yes," Andy lied, after a pause that went on for just a moment too long.

"Let me in."

Andy didn't want to, but there was something about Assistant: something that meant, when she gave you an order in a certain tone of voice, you obeyed her. Andy had pressed the 'Enter' button by the side of her bed before she'd even realized it. Assistant glided in, regal as always--and then, to Andy's surprise, sat down at the foot of the bed.

"Do you want me to read your letter?" she said.

"I don't think so," Andy said.

"Are you actually planning to send it?"

Andy shrugged miserably.

Assistant sighed. Then, to Andy's astonishment, she reached out and laid her hand on Andy's shin, patting it.

Andy actually forgot about Dr. Phylyxas, and thievery, and even botany for a few seconds, because Assistant was touching her, for no obvious reason, and it felt marvelous--even if it was through Andy's skirt, and was only comforting, wasn't mean to be…intimate. Her hand was warm, and her touch was light, and it made Andy blush so hard that it felt like her whole face was going to melt off.

And Assistant noticed. Of course she did. She never missed anything, not a single detail. Her eyes went wide, and her hand stiffened on Andy's leg. Then she slowly, cautiously pulled it away.

Andy had never been so horrified in her life. Dr. Phylyxas's theft was nothing to this. She wanted to run into her garden and dig a hole deeper than all the rest of them, and then hide in it. But then the door chimed, signaling that dinner had arrived from the mess hall.

Assistant gave Andy one more long look. Andy stared back at her, stricken, feeling as if she should apologize for something she hadn't said or done, only felt. But all Assistant said was, "Come along." Now she looked…not warm. Not quite. But she didn't look angry, upset, or mocking either. Andy didn't know what that look was.

"I'm really not hungry," Andy croaked, deciding that she would stay in her bedroom for the rest of her life.

"Are you sure about that?" Assistant said, raising an eyebrow before she left Andy's room.

Andy tried not to whimper out loud.

* * *

After dinner, they went to the Observatory, where Andy spent the whole time peering into telescopes or looking out the window or paging through star-charts or doing anything but looking at Assistant. And any time Assistant came within two feet of her, Andy started chattering about anything astronomy-related that came into her head, shuffling away as she talked until the two feet had grown back to a comfortable three or four or even five.

But Assistant didn't seem to get Andy's hints, and kept trailing Andy around the Observatory like the most obedient, attentive slave who'd ever lived, which of course she'd never done before and what was she up to? Was she still mad at Andy about the cooling unit thing? Why else would she be doing her gosh-darned best to make Andy want to sink through the floor?

When they returned, Andy knew she should look in on _paxium nollinium_ , but she decided he would just have to fend for himself tonight. She'd get up really early the next day and check on him. Before Assistant woke up. In the meantime, she mumbled, "I'm really tired, I'm turning in early!" and fled into her bedroom before Assistant could reply.

Only of course she couldn't sleep. After two hours of lying awake in the darkness, she gave up and turned on her lamp, deciding to read instead. She might go out and make some tea in a few more minutes--at this hour, Assistant was sure to be asleep--but not just yet. Better to make sure.

But Andy hadn't been reading for more than five minutes when her door hissed open. Assistant stood in the doorway, regarding Andy with the most inscrutable look on her face Andy had ever seen. Andy squawked and fumbled her datapad. "What--why--"

"Your light was on," Assistant said blandly. "I wondered if you were all right."

"I'm fine!" Andy spluttered. "What--what are you even doing in here?"

"You didn't lock your door," Assistant said.

"So?" Andy said. "That doesn't mean you can just walk in on people!" She was astonished, really. Assistant, though she could be very rude in some ways, observed all the proprieties in others.

"I'm sorry," Assistant said, a small smile playing around her lips for the first time. "Did I interrupt something?"

Andy blinked, not sure what to make of the almost…purring…tone in Assistant's voice. "I was just reading," she said.

"Oh," Assistant said, and came into the room. The door shut automatically behind her. "Well, then."

"Um, I'm fine," Andy said hastily. "As you can see. I'm sorry if I, uh, worri--disturbed you. You can go back to sleep now."

"Do you know," Assistant said, sitting at the foot of Andy's bed again, "I'm having the most difficult time nodding off myself."

"Oh," Andy said, and tensed up, wondering if she should scramble out of bed or what. "D-do you want me to make us both some tea?"

"No," Assistant said. "I have a better idea." She slid up the bed until she was actually sitting next to Andy, looking down at her. Andy felt frozen solid, clutching her datapad like a shield to her chest. She couldn't move, couldn't think, couldn't breathe. What--surely--

"I'll tell you a story," Assistant said. "Perhaps that will help you sleep."

"Oh!" Andy's breath left her in one huge rush, and she felt extremely silly. Of course Assistant hadn't meant anything wrong. She might have been teasing Andy like she did sometimes, but that was all. This was obviously totally benign, even if it was still kind of weird. Andy wasn't a little child. But if Assistant wanted… "Okay. I mean, if you like. What kind of story?"

"A pirate story," Assistant said. "What else?"

Andy's eyes widened with both surprise and interest. "I thought you didn't like to talk about that stuff," she said.

"Well, you wanted to know what it was like to live among pirates," Assistant said. "Didn't you? What it was like to keep company with the dangerous pirate queen?"

"You said you never saw her," Andy reminded her.

"I heard the stories," Assistant said. "Everyone did. Everyone in the fleet." She smiled. It was a little scary. "Though the stories rarely made their way to outsiders."

"Oh," Andy said, and curled up on her side, looking up at Assistant. "Okay. That sounds interesting." She tried not to sound too eager, because then she really would feel like a little child. But it would be neat, really neat, to be privy to something that so few 'outsiders' knew.

"Once, nearly ten years ago," Assistant said, "Mír's fleet advanced upon a little armpit outpost in the Leinea sector. It wasn't an official outpost. It didn't even have a name. What it did have was a rogue, roving band of shabby little mercenaries who had been attacking small trading ships. Small, but sometimes loaded with very lucrative cargo." Andy nodded. "And they refused to pay tribute."

"Tribute?"

"Oh, yes. What do you suppose it means to be a queen? You take tribute. Or taxes. However you want to put it."

"My dad says that Mír gets a cut of everything," Andy said, remembering.

Assistant's lip curled. "Or getting a cut. Fine. It means the same thing."

"Okay," Andy prompted. "So they wouldn't pay her?"

"Indeed they would not. They thought they were dealing with one small ship from Mír's fleet, and prepared to engage them. I'm sure they thought they could win, run, and hide. They did not know that Mír's own flagship was in the same sector, cloaked, biding time between much larger targets."

"The flagship?" Andy said eagerly. Rumors abounded about that ship, each one more unlikely than the last. "You mean the _Crown Lily_? Did you ever see it? What's it like?"

"I've seen it. Schematics of it," Assistant amended. "Nothing like a lily. It's black. And large. As large as the biggest Imperial vessel." She reached down and combed her fingers through Andy's hair. "More than a match for anything within the Empire or beyond it."

Andy froze. Assistant had never touched her like…this…before. But her fingers were very gentle in Andy's hair. Almost soothing. And her voice was low, hypnotic, mesmerizing. Yet again, Andy felt like she couldn't move, couldn't do anything but listen as Assistant continued to talk.

"And those little swamp rats tried to withhold their tribute from Mír. To deny her something she had demanded." Assistant's knuckles brushed lightly over Andy's forehead. "That never ends well." Andy gulped, and Assistant smiled almost gently. "There are some people who always get what they want, and she is one of them. Do you know what it is like, to be a person like that?" Andy shook her head mutely. "No. Of course you don't." Assistant shook her own head. "Anyway. To return to my tale.

"The mercenaries engaged the small ship of the fleet. Mír's people held their own, of course, but Mír heard of it while it was happening, and became upset. Most upset. It was an insult, you see, and if there is one thing pirates do not tolerate, it is insult. The _Crown Lily_ arrived quickly, uncloaked, and demanded the mercenaries' immediate surrender and payment of tribute. She promised them mercy. They agreed, of course."

"I bet," Andy whispered, her eyes wide. "So what happened? They joined her crew?"

"She killed them," Assistant said, looking Andy dead in the eye. "Every single one."

"Oh!" Andy curled up harder in the bed until her knees were almost at her chest. "That's horrible!"

Assistant's fingers paused in her hair. "Is it?"

"Of course it is!" Andy said, shocked that Assistant would even have to ask. "She--she said she'd be merciful! She lied!"

"Did she?"

"Well, yes! She, she--"

"From what I understand, the mercenaries were quickly and cleanly killed. That is mercy, in the world of pirates." Assistant dragged her knuckles down Andy's cheek before returning to her hair. The gesture could have been innocent, even tender, but the look in Assistant's eyes made it something else. "They chose that life. They chose that fate. Just as you've chosen to wall yourself off in this little jungle of yours."

"But what's wrong with that?" Andy whispered. "So w-what if I do? I'm not hurting anybody else. I'm not killing anybody, or stealing--I'm not as bad as a pirate or even Dr. Phylyxas!"

To her surprise, Assistant's nostrils flared, and she almost looked upset. "If I were you," she said, "I would not compare Mír to the Senior Royal Botanist."

"Why not?" Andy demanded. "They both steal stuff. At least Dr. Phylyxas doesn't kill people." Assistant yanked her fingers out of Andy's hair. "Ouch! Well, it's true." Assistant scowled at her. For once, Andy didn't back down, and scowled right back. Assistant looked surprised at that.

Then Andy rolled over and showed Assistant her back. "I didn't like that story," she said, her voice muffled in the pillow. "And it's not going to help me sleep, thanks."

Then she felt Assistant's fingertips again. They were warm. They were stroking lightly over the nape of her neck.

Andy froze again. And she began to shake like a leaf of _quercus alba_ in a stiff wind as Assistant leaned down, her breath soft and warm on the side of Andy's face. "You didn't like that story?" she murmured in Andy's ear. "Not even a little?" Andy swallowed, tried to say something, but she couldn't make a sound. Her whole body went hot, then cold, then hot again. "It did not excite you?"

"It wasn't exciting," Andy whispered, making her voice work at last. "It was t-terrible--what are you doing?"

"You know nothing of the world," Assistant said, her voice as soft as the fuzz on a baby leaf. She smelled wonderful. Intoxicating, like the one time Andy had tried wine. She had beautiful arms and legs. And her voice still wove around Andy like a spell.

Andy felt the lightest, barest brush of Assistant's lips on her shoulder, against her throat; heard Assistant inhale; realized that Assistant was smelling her, too. Her fingertips dragged slowly up and down Andy's arm, making goosebumps rise everywhere they touched. "But tell me," she breathed in Andy's ear, curling up behind Andy until their bodies touched from back to front and Andy thought she might faint from the heat. "What do you know about this? Anything at all?"

And then her lips stroked down the side of Andy's throat; Andy felt the touch of her tongue, as hot as fire. She tried to say something, but all that came out was a sob. Her body felt very strange--she couldn't breathe normally, couldn't keep her eyes open, couldn't stop shaking--and she hurt, her breasts actually hurt and ached, her nipples were drawing up tiny and tight--

Assistant let go of her with one hand. Andy gasped, but Assistant only reached over her and turned off the bedside lamp, drowning Andy in darkness.

Then Assistant was on her. She rolled Andy over, pinned her beneath her own impossibly warm body; and she kissed Andy, kissed her until she couldn't breathe. Andy had been kissed once before, when she was sixteen, by a boy who hadn't really liked her. She didn't know if Assistant liked her either. But she didn't kiss like they had. She kissed Andy with her mouth open, with her tongue, never letting up, never letting Andy breathe or protest, not that Andy was sure she even wanted to protest.

When she lifted her mouth, Andy tried to say something to her. But all that came out was _"Oh,"_ a whimpering moan. She'd never made a noise like that before. Assistant hissed, and kissed her again, and then began touching her nipples through the thin cotton of her nightgown. Andy arched up into her pinching, twisting fingers with a strangled gasp and grabbed Assistant by the shoulders, unable to do anything but hold on while Assistant held her down and did things to her. She wriggled and writhed and tried to talk, to beg, but she didn't know what to beg for and her voice wasn't working anyway.

Then Assistant slid her knee between Andy's, parting Andy's legs, and pressed down against Andy with her thigh, the pale thigh Andy had seen up in the tree. Now it was between Andy's legs, and Andy was arching up against it, rubbing against it frantically because she couldn't help herself. She felt like she'd lost all control over her own body, which did whatever Assistant told it to do with her mouth and hands. And her words. "So responsive," she purred in Andy's ear, "yes, yes, do that…" Andy arched up against her, moving her hips faster than ever, realizing that she was getting wet and rubbing it all against Assistant's skirt and making an awful mess. "Doesn't it feel so good?"

"Uh--I--uh--" Even if she could talk, Andy would have had no idea how to answer that. Did it feel good? She didn't know. She just knew it turned her into somebody she didn't recognize and had no control over and she wasn't sure she really liked that but didn't want to stop either--

"Help," she cried. Because she needed help. She was lost and scared and couldn't stop moving and Assistant had to help her, had to take pity on her because surely she didn't understand what she was doing to Andy, otherwise why-- "Help, please, oh--"

Assistant let go of her breasts, reached down, and cupped Andy's rear firmly with her astonishingly strong hands. Then she pushed Andy harder against her thigh, moving Andy faster and rougher, bending down to suck and lick at Andy's throat. Andy began to pant harder, feeling like she was one step away from hysteria as she shuddered her way closer and closer to something but close to what, to what? "Come now," Assistant said harshly against her throat. "Come now, for me--"

Andy had no idea what the heck Assistant was talking about, or how she was supposed to come or go anywhere when she was in a state like this, but then Assistant pushed Andy up, and pressed her thigh down, and began squeezing Andy's bottom rhythmically. And Andy tossed her head back and wailed as something convulsed inside her, hard and fast, releasing all the trembling and the tension in her body while she writhed and sobbed. Assistant kept whispering, kept saying, "Yes, like that, exactly like that, yes," and kept Andy moving against her leg until Andy simply couldn't take it anymore and began pressing against Assistant's shoulders because the convulsions were slowing down, lessening, although Andy still couldn't stop shaking.

"There," Assistant said. "There now." She rubbed her thumb against Andy's hip. "Very good. Very good indeed." She kissed Andy's forehead softly. "Lovely."

"Oh," Andy gulped, and then whimpered, "gosh."

Assistant chuckled. "Quite." She kissed Andy's forehead again. "Sssh, now."

"I m-m-messed up your skirt," Andy said thickly. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

"Sssh," Assistant said again, and rolled off Andy, leaving Andy feeling abandoned and cold in the night air. She hadn't felt safe beneath Assistant, but now, after all that, she felt like she'd been stranded in the middle of nowhere without any shelter at all. She made a soft, bereft noise. And Assistant, to her surprise, settled in next to her side and took her in her arms once more.

"Utterly lovely," she repeated, sounding very satisfied indeed.

"You…" Andy swallowed hard. "Why did you do that?"

Assistant tensed for a moment, but then it went out of her. "Did I hurt you?" she inquired, threading her fingers through Andy's hair again.

"No," Andy said uncertainly.

"Did you dislike it?"

"No," Andy managed.

"Well, then." Assistant petted her on the shoulder. "We'll just have to do it again sometime, won't we?"

"Oh," Andy said. "I don't…I don't know…" She gulped. "I d-don't know if we should."

"There is no 'should,'" Assistant said softly. "Not when it comes to this. Forget 'should.'" She stroked Andy's back, and Andy shivered. "Trust me," she murmured. "Trust me."

"I do," Andy whispered, because she did, although she had no idea what was going on.

Assistant touched her chin, and tilted Andy's face so that she could kiss her mouth. It was much softer now, much more gentle. She didn't use her tongue. "It will be so good," she said. "You don't even know the half of what can be done. Of how I can make you feel." She kissed Andy again. "There will be no pain. Only pleasure. Trust me," she repeated.

Andy's eyelids were already drooping as she was lulled to sleep by Assistant's soft words, soft body, and her own exhaustion. She tried to say, 'Okay,' but didn't quite manage it before she conked out.

She awoke an indeterminate time later to a loud, intrusive noise. She gasped, stiffened, and opened her eyes, in that order. Someone's arms clung to her waist, someone was spooned up snugly behind her back. Someone was snoring right in her ear.

Assistant. Andy gasped and blushed as she remembered what they'd done only--um--she squinted at the clock by the bed. Only three hours ago. But she was having a hard time thinking about that, because Assistant was snoring loudly enough to wake the dead. Andy hadn't noticed she'd done that in her alcove. Maybe she was just really tired tonight.

But it was dangerous to wake Assistant. Andy shuddered. Then again, Assistant's arms were wrapped securely around her--awfully securely, as if Assistant was making sure Andy wasn't going anywhere. So she wouldn't be able to wake up swinging. Still, better safe than sorry. Andy wriggled against her, and cleared her throat loudly.

It worked. Assistant snorted, twitched, and said, "Wha?"

"You're snoring," Andy said.

"What?" Assistant sounded blank and sleepy. Then: "I am not."

"You were too. Right in my ear. You woke me up."

"I don't snore," Assistant said, still sounding out of it. "Go back to sleep."

"I can't sleep when you snore!" Andy protested. "Here. Let me get up." She had some ointment that cleared up your sinuses when you smeared it below your nose. Sometimes it helped snoring, too. Or at the very least, she could make it to her cot and sleep there in peace and quiet.

"No," Assistant said, and without further ado, tightened her grip, hooked one leg over Andy, and went right back to sleep.

Andy fought the urge to laugh hysterically. Assistant held her more tightly than any vine wrapped around a tree. Nope, she definitely wasn't going anywhere. And she probably wasn't getting any more sleep, either.

But perhaps Assistant had taken Andy's words to heart after all, because she didn't snore after that. She just breathed, deeply and regularly, on the back of Andy's neck, sending tingles down Andy's spine. Andy, who wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep and stop thinking, couldn't help remembering Assistant's breath on her cheek and throat, her throaty voice whispering in Andy's ear. Her offer of future pleasures that Andy was going to have a hard time refusing.

Only…why should she refuse? It had been Assistant's own idea. And Assistant had promised not to hurt her.

Andy had heard about sex, of course. It was supposed to be fun. And what had happened tonight wasn't exactly 'fun,' but it had definitely been…Andy swallowed hard. It had been something, that was for sure. So, why not? Why did the idea scare the living daylights out of her, even as it made her tremble with curious excitement?

Even in the absence of Assistant's snoring, Andy did not sleep well that night.

* * *


	3. Part Three

Andy did drop off, eventually. And when she woke again, Assistant was no longer in her bed, although the spot where she'd lain was still warm. Andy heard her moving around in the kitchen. No doubt she'd already called for breakfast.

Abruptly, Andy remembered _paxium nollinium_ , and cried out, "Oh!" Then she flew out of bed, straightening her nightgown around her as she bolted into the garden, the cool dirt pressing into her bare feet. She'd neglected him for hours. Heaven only knew what--

Whew. He was okay, though obviously drooping. Andy reached for the nearest watering can with shaking hands. If she'd been just another hour later--really, how careless of her. If anything had happened to _paxium nollinium_ , she never would have forgiven herself. Or any of her plants. They depended on her for their food and water, their proper upkeep--their lives. She was responsible for them. They were more of a family to her than her father was. Or anybody else, except maybe Assistant, and Andy wasn't so sure about that either.

"What's wrong?" Assistant demanded behind her, and Andy jumped about a foot in the air, nearly sloshing water everywhere. She whirled around to see Assistant, fully dressed and looking like she always did, frowning at her. "I heard you cry out," Assistant added.

"Oh," Andy said, and grabbed the watering can tighter. "I realized, when I woke up--" She nodded towards _paxium nollinium_. "I almost forgot about him. He wasn't looking so good." She quickly turned her back to Assistant, and poured the water into _paxium_ 's pot, her hands still unsteady.

"I almost forgot him," she repeated.

"Well, you didn't," Assistant said, and though Andy didn't look at her, she figured that Assistant probably understood what Andy was thinking about. "Come and have breakfast."

"Oh," Andy said, and looked around frantically until her eyes lighted on a tiny seedling of _billinallis_. "No, I need to take care of this too. I've got too much to do. I'll eat later. I'll--"

Assistant's hand was cool and firm as it closed around Andy's elbow and spun her around. And her grip was strong as she tugged Andy into her arms, bent down, and kissed her. After one dizzy, terrifying second, Andy couldn't think about anything but her mouth, and the way Assistant's own mouth felt against it--firm, hot. Assistant cradled her chin in one hand, tilting Andy's head to exactly where she wanted it to be.

Then she pulled away and nipped softly at Andy's bottom lip. Andy squeaked, and felt Assistant's smile against her own lips. "You're delicious," she said.

"I'm busy," Andy mumbled. "I've got, I've got a lot to do today."

"So do I," Assistant said, and slid her fingertips up and down Andy's spine, burning Andy's skin even through the cotton of her nightgown. Her eyes gleamed. Andy wondered if this was what it felt like right before a wild animal jumped on you. "There is a great deal still to do." She brushed her lips lightly over Andy's cheek. "It will take me a very long time to get to all of it." She kissed Andy's shoulder. "Because I will do a very, very thorough job."

"Oh," Andy said, and her knees buckled. It didn't faze Assistant in the slightest. She just tightened her arms around Andy's waist, and chuckled. "Well," she said. "Now is as good a time as any to begin."

Andy didn't object. She was almost sure she didn't want to. Instead, she raised her face, and very timidly pressed her lips to Assistant's, wondering if that was the right thing to do. Assistant inhaled sharply, kissed her back, and then breathed, "Oh yes. Now."

"Now," Andy said vaguely, just because it was a word that she remembered and could say.

"How about here?" Assistant said, and pressed Andy against a tree trunk. "Up against your favorite oak?" She licked at the side of Andy's neck. "Or down in the dirt with your favorite little seedlings?" Her hand wandered up and down Andy's side while Andy trembled and gasped. "It doesn't matter. I will have you in both places. I'll have you everywhere in these rooms." She licked again, and sounded almost playful as she whispered, "Because it is my will. And I shall have my will."

"What?" Andy managed. "Why are you, why are you talking like--"

Assistant's nimble fingers moved to the clasp on the right strap of Andy's nightgown. Next thing Andy knew, the clasp had popped open, the strap had gone slack, and the nightgown had fallen open to reveal her right breast to Assistant's hungry gaze. Andy's face burned, and she tensed, ready to try to wriggle away.

Then Assistant bent and put her mouth on Andy's breast.

The next few minutes were kind of hazy. Andy remembered making so much noise that her throat hurt later, remembered the way Assistant's tongue on her nipples was alternately soft and rough, remembered the way Assistant's perfect teeth nipped and bit and tugged until Andy was practically crying. Remembered Assistant switching back and forth between her breasts, her hot breath on Andy's damp skin, the sweat beading at Assistant's temples, the way her breathing got harsher and louder.

When Andy's knees finally gave up completely, Assistant bore her down to the ground and, true to her word, had her among the seedlings. She covered Andy's body with her own, cupped and squeezed her wet, aching breasts, kissed her mouth. "Beautiful," she panted. "So ready for this. I knew you would be, I knew--"

"You kn-knew--" Andy arched her head back again as Assistant bit down on her collarbone.

Assistant laughed softly. "And I was right." Once again, she slid her thigh in between Andy's. "Wasn't I?" Once again, she raised Andy's hips to meet her. _"Now."_

Just like last time, it worked, and Andy obeyed Assistant, quaking and wailing her way through something that was both pleasure and pain, both relief and disappointment because now everything was over. By the time she was done, she was too breathless even to moan. And just like last time, she had to hold on to Assistant before she could get her breath back, craving that comfort from the same woman who had just driven her half-crazy.

Assistant held her for a few moments, nuzzling contentedly at her hair and temple. Then she said, "Breakfast, I think."

"Oh," Andy whispered. "Okay." Then she remembered something and said, "This isn't my favorite oak tree."

Assistant stopped nuzzling and pulled back, looking at Andy with a frown. "I beg your pardon?"

"He's not my favorite oak tree," Andy repeated, and pointed at another tree ten feet away. "She is." Then she reached out and apologetically patted the trunk. "Sorry," she murmured.

Assistant stared at her. "What difference does it make?"

Andy stared right back. "What difference…?" Then she realized she was half-naked, and struggled to sit up, covering her breasts again, although she felt a little less shy than before. "Of course it makes a difference! You know that." If Assistant didn't understand that, after all this time, then…then who would, besides Andy?

Assistant rolled her eyes as she rose to her feet. "I do apologize for forgetting your favorite tree," she said, reached down, and pulled Andy up with one hand. Then she smiled slyly and leaned in again.

"No," Andy said, before she could change her mind, and turned her face away. "I'm getting a shower."

"What?"

"I feel gross," Andy said, and brushed herself down. Her nightgown was probably beyond washing. "And I'm not supposed to eat while I'm dirty. That's your rule."

"'Gross'?" Assistant looked outraged. "You crawl around in the dirt every day--"

"I'm getting a shower," Andy repeated, and headed for the bathroom, feeling sort of cross and upset, even though her body was pretty happy. She was glad when Assistant did not try to detain her again.

Assistant left her alone for the rest of the day. They worked together in silence that, only twenty-four hours ago, would have been companionable. And it wasn't angry today, not exactly, just sort of tense. Certainly tense on Andy's part. More than once, she heard utter silence coming from Assistant's part of the garden, instead of the steady thump or motion of tools and earth. And she realized that Assistant was not working because she was watching Andy.

She wondered what Assistant saw, and shivered, and almost wanted to turn around out of the blue and beg Assistant to be nice to her. Which made no sense. Assistant hadn't hurt her, and wasn't going to. She'd said so.

They ate lunch in silence, and returned to work. Dinner was a silent affair as well, and Andy realized that she was going to start screaming if she didn't get out of these rooms. So she gave Assistant a hopeful smile and said, "Want to go to the Observatory?"

Assistant looked at her through hooded eyes. It was an expression Andy had never seen on her face before. Not the usual closed watchfulness, nor the predatory gleam of earlier. But all she said was, "No. I'd like to stay here and read. But you should go."

"Yeah," Andy said at once, nodding hard. "You, you stay here and rest. We've had a busy--" She almost choked. "I'll, um, d-download--"

"Newsfeeds," Assistant said, "please."

Andy didn't quite know what to do in the Observatory without Assistant there. The superintendent was surprised to see her there alone, she could tell. But she peered through the telescopes at the same old stars in the same old positions, and gazed at the same old star-charts, and thought of a million things she could have asked Assistant--who really did know a lot about stars--except Assistant was reading back in their rooms, and wasn't with Andy. And, somehow, she managed to pass two and a half hours in the Observatory without actually observing much at all.

She returned to their quarters. It was late--Assistant was probably asleep. Sure enough, when the door slid open, everything was dark. Even the little light in the kitchen, which they usually left on, was out. Great. Andy hoped she didn't break any toes while she tried to navigate her silent way to her bedroom. Where she might or might not lock the door. She hadn't decided yet.

Then, as she took her first few, faltering steps, two hot hands snatched her, pressing her tight against an even hotter human body, and a mouth like a burning coal pressed hard against her own. "Oh!" Andy cried, seized with terror, before she realized that of course it was Assistant, and then she was less terrified, although only slightly.

"You certainly took your time," Assistant said, and began to kiss Andy beneath her ear.

"You scared me," Andy said, trembling against her. "Don't do that. Please."

"If you wish," Assistant said after a slight pause, and resumed nibbling.

"I can't see you--and I didn't h-hear you--"

"I heard you," Assistant said. Andy felt her lips curve in a smile. Felt the edge of her teeth. "Your steps. Your movements." She dropped one hand from Andy's waist to take hold of her arm, and pressed her thumb against the pulse at Andy's wrist. "And your heartbeat is very loud." Then her arms slid around Andy's waist and pressed her in very tight. "I'm sorry if I frightened you."

Andy, who had almost been about to scream from sheer nerves, suddenly froze and whispered, "You are?"

Assistant did not reply, but trailed her warm, dry lips gently up Andy's jaw, her cheek, all the way to her forehead. "I have been very patient," she said. "All day. Don't you think?"

She kissed Andy's mouth again, and Andy's insides filled with heat. She'd never, ever felt anything like what she felt when Assistant touched her. And before she knew it, she'd melted against Assistant, kissing and being kissed, and not thinking about anything at all, for once. It was okay. Assistant hadn't meant to scare her, was holding her very securely, and everything was all right.

They ended up in the bedroom again, and this time Assistant shoved Andy's skirt up her hips, dragged her underwear off, and spent what felt like hours with her hands between Andy's legs, playing and stroking and rubbing, letting her fingertips slip and roam over little bits and ridges Andy hadn't even known she had, but which felt so unbelievably good that Andy couldn't stop moaning. Assistant liked it when she moaned. Assistant said, again, that she was beautiful, responsive, made for this, made for--

"Fucking," Assistant called it, murmuring the word against Andy's sweaty shoulder.

Andy, who had been well on her way towards 'coming' yet again, gasped and turned her head, nearly whacking her in the temple with her nose. Assistant pulled back in surprise. "Don't say that," Andy said, and grabbed at Assistant's elbow to stop her moving her hand. "Oh, please don't call it that. That's a horrible word." And it was. Not just because it was dirty, but because it sounded wrong, somehow, sounded like something rude and base and meaningless. This wasn't base and meaningless to Andy.

"Then what should I call it?" Assistant asked, her voice light. Andy wished she could see her face better.

"I, I don't know," Andy croaked, because the words 'making love' wouldn't come to her mouth, and felt really stupid in any case.

"Then let's not call it anything at all," Assistant said softly, and slid a long, slender finger inside Andy, moving it slowly in and out until Andy forgot about words and language and anything but how Assistant made her feel. And then she came, and heard her own voice let out a low, desperate sob while she shuddered with pleasure. She'd thought she'd be used to it by now. She wasn't. She'd never known. How could she have known?

"Like flowers," she whispered as she sank, trembling, back against the mattress. "Bees and pollen and…and stuff…"

"And stuff," Assistant agreed, kissing her yet again. She was panting too, and her skin was even hotter than before.

"Is--" Andy laid a hesitant hand on Assistant's leg. "It's your turn now. Right?"

Assistant hesitated. Then, to Andy's surprise, she took Andy's hand and gently pushed it away. "No."

"What?" Andy said. "Why not?" Then she figured it out, and flinched. "I mean, I know I don't know how to do it…"

"That's not--"

"…but I learn fast. You know I do. And I want to, I do--" Because she did. She'd seen Assistant's shapely legs (or parts of them), had felt Assistant's breasts and thighs against her. Was it so wrong that she wanted to touch and taste them as well? Wasn't that fair? Part of the deal?

"No," Assistant said, firmly now, and pressed Andy's hand down on the mattress. "Perhaps later. But not now."

"Oh." Mollified by the idea of 'later,' Andy relaxed. When she relaxed, so did Assistant, who settled down next to her. "This is pretty nice," she added.

"There's more," Assistant said, "though not for right now."

"No," Andy said. "I just meant this." She rested her head against Assistant's shoulder. Then she added, "Unless you start snoring."

"I don't snore," Assistant said flatly.

"Maybe not usually, but you did last night."

"Nobody has ever accused me of snoring before."

"Well, I heard it," Andy said. "Anyway, if you start, I'll just go sleep on my cot."

But like last night, Assistant hooked her arms and leg around Andy just at the suggestion. "You'll grow fur and live on Theti Six first," she said.

"That's not fair," Andy protested. Then she added, "You know, I've got some stuff you can put on your nose--"

"Go to sleep," Assistant growled, and since she used that particular tone of voice, Andy had no choice but to obey.

* * *

The next week seemed to pass like a dream.

A nice dream, Andy guessed. Well, maybe not "nice." Sometimes she felt bubbly and fuzzy and downright romantic. This was usually when she was by herself and thinking about Assistant, however. When she was actually with Assistant, nothing seemed romantic at all. Then it seemed scary and thrilling and not at all safe, no matter what Assistant had said before.

Assistant had developed the habit of grabbing Andy and doing things to her whenever she felt like it. (Although after the first time she'd surprised Andy with a trowel in her hand, and had nearly received a black eye as a result, she chose her times more cautiously, no matter how much Andy had apologized.) And the things she did…Andy would never have imagined, never at all. And until Assistant actually did them, Andy was fairly sure she'd never have given her permission because some of them, on paper, sounded pretty gross.

But in actual practice…

It was like getting down in the earth and planting flowers, and getting the thrill of watching them flourish, compared to sitting down and reading about botany in a textbook. It wasn't the same at all. Nothing could have prepared Andy for Assistant's hands and mouth on her, all over her, in broad daylight next to a _malinusis_ shrub, or in Andy's bedroom at night, where somehow the utter darkness brought other dark things, where Assistant did things to Andy that she didn't do in daylight, things that made Andy howl like an animal. Fitting, since sometimes Assistant made her get on all fours. This seemed humiliating and wrong at first, but it soon brought such pleasure that Andy did her best to maintain the position as long as possible until her arms and legs turned to goop, she collapsed, and Assistant purred wonderful things in her ear about how delectable she was.

On the third night, Assistant put her mouth between Andy's legs. Andy cried out, pushed at her head, tried half-heartedly to wriggle away because surely that wasn't hygienic at all. But Assistant laid one strong arm over Andy's belly and held her down, kissing and licking until Andy wasn't protesting, wasn't doing anything but sobbing and staring up into the darkness and whispering the occasional 'oh please oh gosh oh please.' Sometimes Assistant was gentle, kissing as softly and as tenderly as she kissed Andy's mouth after sex. Sometimes she pointed her tongue and used it like a whip. By the time she was done, Andy had ruined yet another set of sheets (she wondered what the laundry people thought), and her lungs were aching. It felt marvelous.

Afterwards, Assistant kissed her. Without washing her face or mouth or anything. She kissed Andy, and Andy tasted all that sticky stuff on Assistant's mouth and cheeks, stuff that had come from _her_ , and it was gross but kind of sexy too.

The next night was the night Assistant told Andy to get on all fours, and did the same thing to her, only from behind. This meant she worked at a new angle, and could get at new bits of Andy, tease her in different ways, which felt amazing. And then--oh then--she moved her tongue up until it was doing something that Andy absolutely knew was unhygienic, licking at Andy's anus, painting patterns like a five-point star until Andy could actually feel herself twitching back there, and she couldn't believe something like this was making her so wet, but it was.

Assistant kept her tongue moving, but she reached down and slid one, two, and then three fingers inside Andy, pumping them in and out--she'd never used so many fingers at once before, and it stretched and burned, and she was still licking and nuzzling--

Andy grabbed on to a pillow for comfort as she buried her face in it and screamed and screamed while she came. She was pretty sure she lost consciousness for a few seconds because when she opened her eyes again, Assistant was soothingly rubbing her back and whispering praise into her ear. She didn't try to kiss Andy this time. Sometimes she knew when not to push.

But sometimes she suggested stuff that was downright weird. Not gross or wrong, necessarily, but just plain weird.

"Tie me up?" Andy asked over the dinner table. Assistant liked to bring these things up while they were eating, as calmly and casually as if they were discussing a new shipment of seeds, while Andy trembled and blushed. But tonight Andy wasn't sure what the heck she was talking about, so there was no blushing at all. "Why would we do that?"

Assistant blinked. Evidently she had expected the usual response, and Andy felt dumb, sure that she'd missed something. And Assistant's retort--"Why not?"--was a little weaker than her usual.

"But…I mean, okay, I guess," Andy said, and shrugged as she took a sip of tea, deciding to be accommodating. "If that's what you want."

"I'm overwhelmed by your enthusiasm," Assistant said, starting to look a little put out.

"Well, why do you want to do it?"

"Don't you like the idea?" Assistant persisted. She smiled wickedly. "Lying still and helpless while I do whatever I wish to you?"

"But we do that now," Andy said blankly. "Every day."

This was obviously not going as Assistant had planned. "But you would not be able to respond," she said. "To touch me. You would--"

Andy looked down at her plate. "I can't anyway," she mumbled. "You won't let me." She couldn't quite keep the wistfulness out of her voice. Or the disappointment. Almost a week, and Assistant still said, 'No, not yet,' when Andy tried to touch her. Every single night.

There was a long moment while Andy waited hopefully for Assistant to relent. To say--

"Well then," Assistant said, and Andy knew that, yet again, she would not be touching Assistant tonight. Assistant didn't tie her up, either. Instead she handled Andy roughly, biting her and gripping her until it hurt more than it felt good and Andy begged her to stop.

Assistant stopped. For the first time in a week, they stopped without finishing. Andy rather thought that there was remorse in Assistant's kiss as she curled her body around Andy's before they went to sleep.

That was something they did do, every night--sleeping together. And Andy really did like that, now that she'd gotten used to it. It wasn't like sex. She always felt safe. It was very easy to believe that no harm in the universe could touch her when Assistant held her so close. Not that harm ever had touched her, not that she'd ever felt unsafe, even with pirates swarming around. It was just…

It was just that her life was so different now. Andy had always thought she was pretty happy with her plants. Sure, she'd gotten a little lonely from time to time, but then she'd get wrapped up in another experiment and it hadn't gotten her down for long. Only now she had a helper, who not only did magnificent things to her body, but who also toiled next to her in the garden and shared her table at mealtimes and, heck, made sure there were mealtimes. Andy had said before that she couldn't remember what life had been like before Assistant came. That was still true, only now she wondered how she'd managed to live at all. Compared to this--to both thrill and security--the old life seemed so hollow, so empty. Maybe that had been contentment, but this, this was happiness. She couldn't imagine living without Assistant now.

And no matter how shameful it was, she was glad she didn't have to find out.

* * *

Three nights later, they lay in Andy's bed. They were still sweaty, but for some reason neither of them was particularly sleepy yet. "Maybe I could show you something," Andy said shyly, and when Assistant had nodded, she brought out the holo-chip she kept in the top drawer of the nightstand.

She pressed the button, and the pictures leapt to life. Andy quickly skimmed through them until she found the one she wanted--it didn't take long, there weren't many. She and Assistant looked silently for a moment at the dark-haired woman who floated before them in pixels and lights.

"That's my mom," Andy said.

"I'd figured that out," Assistant said. "You look remarkably like her."

"Oh, no," Andy said. "She was so much more beautiful. Everybody said so." She chuckled a little painfully. "When I was a kid, sometimes I overheard people saying that it was a shame that someone like my mom had given birth to someone who looked like me--you know, skinny and plain and all that."

"Mmm," Assistant said, and trailed her hand up and down Andy's bare stomach and thigh. Andy was naked, but of course Assistant never was. "I do not appreciate someone disagreeing with my own assessment."

Andy blushed brilliantly. "Well," she said, and cleared her throat. "Anyway. She was so pretty, and she loved parties and music and all that stuff. But she was a good mom, too--I don't remember much, but I know that. I have good memories of her holding me and stuff." Assistant nodded. "But when I was seven, she came down with the Etelian Fever."

"Oh," Assistant said. "Yes. I remember there was an outbreak about thirteen years ago."

"Yeah," Andy said. "My dad got it, too. He lived, but sometimes he still gets…I'm not sure what to call them. Spells? Anyway, the fever comes back sometimes, but not as bad. And I didn't catch it, because I was so young." Assistant nodded again. "So…that was my mom."

"You and your father do not speak much," Assistant said, sounding almost cautious.

Andy bit her lip. "Yeah. Well, everybody's always told me how crazy he was about Mom. So I guess after she died, maybe I reminded him too much of her."

"You were his responsibility," Assistant said. "Grief or not, he had no right to abandon you."

"He didn't!" Andy protested, upset by Assistant's latest slight to her dad. "I told you, he always made sure I was taken care of. And he's always been really good about letting me look after my plants. Wherever we moved, he made sure I could transport my whole garden with me, and that I'd get quarters that could hold it all."

"Yours are rather vast," Assistant conceded. She glanced through Andy's open bedroom door into the foliage. "Although it's hard to tell sometimes because it seems a little crowded out there. I can't imagine why."

"So, you see?" Andy persisted. It seemed important for Assistant to understand that-- "He loves me."

Assistant gently took the holo-chip and turned off the projection. "Yes," she said. "Of course."

"Well…he does," Andy said. There hadn't been doubt in Assistant's voice, but you could never be sure with her. "What about your parents?" she added. "I still don't know anything about--" _you._ "How you grew up."

"My parents were killed by pirates when I was very young," Assistant said, her voice as bland as ever. "But they kept me. I must have been three or four. So I grew up among the pirates. I remember no other life."

This time, Andy definitely understood the tone of her voice: the I'm-done-talking-about-this tone. "Oh," she said in a small voice. Then she dared to squeeze Assistant's hand with her own.

"Yes," Assistant said, and pulled her hand free. Andy bit her lip. But Assistant only leaned over Andy, put the chip on the table, and turned off the lamp. "Get some sleep," she said, and Andy relaxed at the kindness in her voice. "We have a busy day tomorrow, don't we?"

"The saplings!" Andy said, and quivered happily.

"Indeed," Assistant said, and stroked her cheek.

* * *

It was true that Andy didn't know much about the world, as Assistant had said. But she did know that having Assistant around made her happy--happier than anything else ever had. And she was pretty sure a feeling like that had a name.

And it only seemed right to let Assistant know, to tell her how much Andy valued--treasured--her companionship. So on their eleventh night together, after Assistant had given her the usual tender, sticky kiss, Andy struggled to get her breath back. Then she said, "You know. I, uh. I love you."

Assistant's body went very still. Tense. Andy wasn't sure why. Surely she hadn't said anything wrong. How could telling somebody that you loved them possibly be wrong?

"I doubt it," Assistant said, after a moment that lasted much too long.

"Huh?" What the heck was that supposed to mean?

"People often say things like that post-coitum," Assistant said, and petted Andy's hair. "Think nothing of it."

Oh. Assistant thought it had just slipped out of her because she felt so good. "Oh, no," Andy said quickly. "I've been thinking about it for days. I really do." She considered. "What if I tell you again tomorrow morning?"

"No," Assistant said, her voice surprisingly sharp. "I suggest that you don't."

"Oh," Andy said, crestfallen. "But why n--"

"You have no idea what love is," Assistant said, and Andy's eyes went wide in the darkness. "You don't know."

"What?" Andy tried to sit up, but Assistant's arms, as strong as ever, continued to hold her down. "What do you mean? Why shouldn't I know?"

"How could you? I'm the only person you see. Of course you're attached to me. Have you ever heard the term 'puppy-love'?"

"No," Andy said, already pretty sure that she wasn't going to like it.

"It fits you to a T," Assistant said, her voice neither kind nor rough with passion. It was almost cold, and it made Andy shiver. "It means an infatuation. An immature, although intense feeling." Immature? Andy cringed. "No doubt it feels real enough to you," Assistant added. "But don't get too carried away."

"Carried…" Andy hadn't felt this hurt since Assistant had accused her of being a recluse. "H-how do you know how I feel? You aren't me." She heard Assistant take a breath, ready to say something, and added, "I think that's an awful thing to say to somebody."

"You don't--"

"Yes, I do," Andy said. "What's wrong with it? Why are you being horrible? I know you're horrible sometimes, but I love you anyway," she added, inspired. "So that doesn't matter."

"You know I'm horrible, do you?" Assistant asked, a definite edge to her voice that hadn't been there in quite some time. She let Andy go, and sat up.

"Oh, no, not always," Andy said quickly, realizing how rude that must have sounded. Why had this gotten so complicated? She'd only meant to tell Assistant that she loved her. Why couldn't anything ever be simple and straightforward where Assistant was concerned? "I mean, most of the time you're really nice, of course. You're only horrible sometimes, and I mean, I bet everybody is sometimes, I'm sure I am too--"

"I'm going to my alcove," Assistant said, and slid off the bed.

"What? No!" Andy said. "I mean, you don't have to do that." Why had this upset Assistant so much? Surely it would make you feel good if somebody told you they loved you. Andy had always thought it would be nice--nobody had said that to her since her mother had died, but she couldn't imagine how it would be anything but pleasant. But apparently, as in all things except botany, she didn't know squat. "Don't go," she added.

"Good night," Assistant said. The door closed behind her.

Andy realized she was trembling, and slid beneath her blanket, alone for the first time in ten days. It was funny how quickly she'd gotten used to having somebody else there. Now it didn't feel right to be in bed by herself, and she didn't sleep well.

The next day, they didn't say anything about it. Assistant didn't do anything to her in the garden, or the kitchen, or the bathroom, either. Andy, who had been trying very hard to hide her distress, was almost ready to cry after hours of the silent treatment; and then, in the middle of dinner, Assistant threw down her spoon, stood up, and dragged Andy to her alcove.

They hadn't done it there yet. They had a tacit understanding that the alcove was Assistant's space alone. But this evening Assistant pressed Andy down on the narrow bed, muttered, "Here--yes--in here," and did her very best to devour Andy whole. And tonight, Assistant--who was usually very quiet, compared to Andy--moaned while Andy writhed beneath her, growled when she had her hand between Andy's legs, hissed and sighed as she took Andy's nipples in her mouth. And when Andy was whimpering with exhaustion and sensory overload, when she just couldn't take any more, Assistant kissed her and whispered, "We do not need love. Do you see?" She kissed Andy's throat as hungrily as if they hadn't been going at it for over an hour. "Don't you understand?"

"No," Andy whispered. But then, before Assistant could get any ideas, she grabbed her arm and said, "That's okay, though. I mean, I, I don't mind."

She did mind. But what could she say? She couldn't make Assistant love her. She could only make Assistant not want to leave their bed in the middle of the night. And Assistant liked her, anyhow, which was something. She had to like her, if she spent day in and day out with her without throttling her for talking about plants all the time. So that was better than nothing.

Anything was better than nothing. That was practically a scientific truth, wasn't it? And she'd had nothing before, so anything was better now. It was perfectly simple.

"Good," Assistant said, and finally gave her the usual gentle kiss. "Good," she repeated softly, and petted Andy's hair. Andy tried to be as happy as she'd been twenty-four hours ago.

Then Assistant said, out of the blue, "Did you ever send your letter to that botany magazine?"

"Huh? I mean, no," Andy said, nonplussed. "I got a little, er, distracted."

Assistant chuckled, and said, "Do you still have the draft?"

Ten minutes later, they were curled up on Andy's bed, Andy resting her head on Assistant's shoulder while Assistant made suggestions on how to write an extremely nasty letter. Andy refused to follow all of them--she especially thought the insinuations about Dr. Phylyxas's parentage were inappropriate--but by the time they were done, they had a letter that she never would have written by herself, but which she had to admit was both accurate and cutting. As it happened, Assistant had quite a lot to say on the subject of 'pillaging,' as she called it.

"Am I really going to send it?" Andy asked breathlessly, her fingertip hovering over the 'send' presskey.

"If you're not, I am," Assistant said. She took Andy's hand in her own and bore gently down on it until Andy, laughing, hit the key and watched their letter go flying off into the infonets, towards a junior editor at _Botany Today_.

"Gosh," she said.

"I couldn't have put it better myself," Assistant replied.

* * *

Three days later, they were at opposite ends of the garden. Assistant was bedding down some _filas mnthali_ while Andy checked on _cambrensium_. His weekly nutrient infusions were going well, and his grafts were coming out excellently. She remembered the first time Assistant had helped her with the infusions--she always did, whenever she worked with _cambrensium_ \--and blushed yet again, thinking of Assistant's legs. She hadn't realized what she was feeling, not exactly, not then. But in hindsight it seemed so obvious. And just thinking about it now, she got the usual little tingle between her thighs, the little shiver up and down her spine.

"Are your grafts coming along?" Assistant called, and Andy almost jumped. She thought about saying that the grafts were fine and maybe they could have sex now. Assistant loved it when Andy made the occasional suggestion or overture, although of course she could never manage to be as bold about it as Assistant was. But for some reason Andy didn't reply today. She wasn't sure why she was being so quiet, or why her heart had suddenly started thumping pleasantly.

"Andren?" Now Andy could hear the frown in Assistant's voice. "Where are you?" She sounded puzzled, and maybe even a little concerned. Andy got a warm glow that had nothing to do with sex.

She heard a faint rustle: Assistant standing up. "If you're passed out from fertilizer fumes, so help me," she grumbled, and Andy felt a pang of remorse for worrying her needlessly. "Ouch!" Assistant added, and Andy realized she'd stubbed her toe for the second time on a pesky outgrown root. Assistant wasn't the kind of person who stubbed her toes, and the thought (plus the look that was probably on her face) made Andy giggle. She quickly covered her mouth with her hand, but it was too late.

Then everything went still and silent. "Andren?" This time Assistant's voice drawled with possibilities. "What are you up to?"

Andy grinned so hard her face hurt, and bit her bottom lip. She gathered up her skirts and crept, almost crawling, to a new hiding place behind _malinusis_. Then she reached down, picked up a pine cone, and tossed it to her right so that it would make a noise.

"Hide and seek?" Andy shivered at the soft menace in Assistant's voice. She was pretty sure it was a pleasant shiver. "At your age?" A pause. "Very well. Just so long as you understand what I win at the end."

This time Andy's shiver was definitely pleasant. She huddled up into a smaller ball behind _malinusis_ , her heart pounding.

But then there was nothing but silence. No more taunts from Assistant, no sounds of moving in the undergrowth, of seeking. Andy suddenly remembered how Assistant had pounced on her in the darkness on their second night together. But she hadn't been expecting it then, hadn't been listening for it, and now she was. And she still couldn't hear anything.

Her excitement suddenly blended with fear. Which was so strange--Assistant had said she'd never hurt Andy, and she hadn't except for that once, and even then she'd stopped as soon as she'd realized what she was doing, as soon as Andy asked her to. So there was no reason to feel apprehension, instead of the giddy glee of a few seconds before. Just…it'd be nice if maybe Assistant could make a little noise.

Or maybe she was just standing still. Trying to freak Andy out. Which was working beautifully, and Andy got annoyed at herself for falling for it so easily. Assistant was obviously trying to lure Andy out of hiding by confusing her. Maybe she was even standing very close by. Slowly, as quietly as she could, Andy peeked around the shrub.

Nothing. Just leaves and ferns and soil and seedlings. Paranoid now, Andy looked over her shoulder. Nothing behind her, either. Or to either side. As far as she could tell, she was the only person in the whole garden. Except the front door hadn't open or shut, and Andy knew Assistant was out there--in here--somewhere.

Andy realized her heart was pounding harder than ever, and that she was sweating and trembling a little. Adrenaline rushed through her until she couldn't tell if it was fear or excitement or what, only that it made her feel completely and totally alive, frozen in this moment. This had never happened before Assistant. Never. She almost wanted to call out, to end the game and tell Assistant where she was, but she didn't--she--

A cool fingertip tapped her on the shoulder.

Andy gasped and looked up, just in time to be shoved back down in the dirt by Assistant, who most definitely hadn't been standing there only five seconds ago, or anywhere in sight. The impact drove the breath out of Andy's lungs, and she had no chance to get it back because Assistant covered Andy's body with her own, grabbed Andy's face in her hands, and kissed her so greedily that Andy wondered if she'd ever breathe again. Without preamble, without a word, Assistant reached down and cupped Andy between her legs, through her dress, squeezing and rubbing, and Andy came with a wheezing cry. Adrenaline, plus the lack of oxygen, made it feel like she came all the way from the crown of her head to the tips of her toes in one exquisite spasm of sensation, and when she was done, the room was spinning in and out of focus while she struggled for air.

"I win," Assistant said.

Andy gulped, wheezed again, and managed, "Me too."

Assistant laughed. Andy blinked. It was a real laugh, and Andy had never heard Assistant make that sound before. If she weren't so dizzy, maybe she'd know what to make of it. As it was, she laughed breathlessly too, until Assistant kissed her again, still laughing and making no move to get up from the ground.

_"We do not need love."_

Assistant had said that. But maybe she hadn't meant it. Not completely. Maybe she loved Andy just a little bit, and felt like she couldn't say it. It was possible, right? Anything was possible, wasn't it?

Andy wrapped her arms around Assistant while Assistant nuzzled at her neck, and decided that a little would be good enough, if she could get it.

* * *


	4. Part Four

It happened two days later.

Assistant had graciously permitted Andy to finish tending their saplings before pressing her against an oak tree--her favorite this time--and kissing her languidly while sliding her fingertips up the inside of Andy's thigh. She had instructed Andy not to wear any underwear while they were in their quarters, and while Andy had objected at first, she soon came to admit that it was much more convenient this way. Especially since Assistant had a habit of ripping anything that got in her way. So today her fingers encountered no obstacles as they teasingly made their way upwards.

Assistant's wrist brushed against the moisture already bubbling between Andy's thighs. She smiled, pleased as always, and kissed Andy's cheek. "Why don't you just go naked all day?" she suggested. "I'd enjoy that very much." She squeezed Andy's thigh, but gently. "Seeing this at every turn."

"Oh, no," Andy said, firmly prepared to refuse if Assistant pressed the issue. "I'd get scratches everywhere."

"True," Assistant acknowledged. She patted Andy's thigh. "I don't want this damaged." She leaned in, bit Andy's earlobe, and whispered. "It pleases me exactly as it is. Your skin."

"Oh," Andy said, and shivered. Assistant's skin pleased her too, at least, what she'd seen of it. Milky pale and perfect. Should she say so? She arched up as Assistant's hand crept higher. "I…"

The door buzzed. Andy jumped and gasped, and Assistant pulled away in surprise. They rarely had visitors. Andy quickly straightened her dress, wishing hard for her underwear, while Assistant smirked and headed to answer the door.

An official stood there, dressed in deep blue. The color of mourning. And he regarded Andy with solemn, sad eyes.

Andy, who'd just arrived in the kitchen, knew immediately what had happened. Judging by her stiff posture and closed expression, Assistant had figured it out, too.

"Your Ladyship," the official said quietly, "it is my sad duty to inform you that your father passed away two hours ago this morning. In his sleep."

"Oh," Andy said. She couldn't think what ought to come next. She just looked at the man, completely bewildered, while he expectantly awaited her response.

"What happened?" Assistant asked, taking up the slack.

The official looked slightly affronted at being addressed by a slave, but he looked again at Andy and apparently decided to overlook it. "His heart," he said. "He has not been well for a long time, Your Ladyship. You know, the fever, all those years ago…and he works--worked--so hard. It seems the strain finally got to him. Though nobody could have seen it coming," he added quickly.

"No," Andy said faintly. "No. He saw it coming." Because all of a sudden, she saw her father's pale face in her mind, telling her that he would not free Assistant, that he wanted Andy to have a companion, _"Because I'm…"_

He'd known. He'd _known_. Why hadn't he told her? Why hadn't he allowed her to help care for him, or at least to say goodbye?

"Your Ladyship?" the official said.

"Are you sure?" Andy whispered, wringing her hands. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe they were all wrong. "You said he was asleep. Maybe--maybe--" She began to tremble. "Maybe you just haven't tried hard enough to wake him up."

The official opened his mouth, closed it, and then said, "I'm afraid it is certain that he is gone, Lady Andren. I am so very, very sorry." He swallowed hard. "He was a good man. A fine stationmaster."

"Oh," Andy said, gulped, and trembled harder.

Assistant noticed. She said quickly, "Are there death rites? Funeral arrangements?"

This time, the official turned to her with relief. "Yes, of course. But the Lady Andren need not trouble herself about that. All will be arranged. He wanted nothing grand, nothing ceremonial that people would have to come from all corners of the Empire to attend. Something simple. He left very specific instructions." He smiled sadly. "He was always a thorough man."

Andy couldn't bear any more. She turned around and plunged back into the foliage, hearing the official exclaim something. But then she made it through the garden to the foot of her favorite oak, where she sat down very hard and leaned against the trunk until she felt the bark pressing into her cheek. She couldn't hear anything but the chirp of the occasional cricket and her own rasping breath.

Then, after some length of time, she heard footsteps. Assistant usually didn't make any noise, so she was probably trying to let Andy know she was coming. Sure enough, after a moment, she appeared from behind a shrub, looking down at Andy with an expression that was not unsympathetic.

"You need to get up," she said, her voice soft but firm. "There is work to be done. You will need to attend to your father's affairs."

Andy looked up at her. She was all blurry. "I want to see him," she said, her voice thick.

"All right," Assistant said, and gave Andy her hand, hauling her to her feet. "Shower and dress. Then we will go to his quarters. I understand he is still laid out there."

"Why didn't he tell me?" Andy said.

"I don't know," Assistant said, and pushed Andy's hair out of her face, looking seriously into her eyes. "Come along now. Attend to your duties--do what you can for him, even though he's gone."

Andy wasn't sure what happened next, except that she thought Assistant was probably right--she usually was--and so she eventually found herself showered and dressed and walking down corridors with Assistant to her father's quarters. She forgot where it was a couple of times, and Assistant consulted some of the numerous station maps on the walls.

Assistant allowed Andy to walk very closely beside her, and even to hold her hand once or twice.

When they had almost arrived, a solemn voice on the loudspeaker announced to the whole station that Andy's father was dead. The people in the corridor stopped and stared at Andy as she walked by with Assistant, and before Andy's very eyes, their faces filled with pity. She didn't want to see it. She couldn't bear to look at them. Why should today be any different? So she kept her eyes on the floor, and let Assistant guide them the rest of the way to her father's rooms, and press the doorbell for entrance.

He was laid out on his bed, but the sheets were freshly made beneath him, and he was in his dress uniform with the insignia of the Imperial Order of the Falcon shining on his breast. He'd always been proud of it; one of Andy's earliest memories, from before her mother's death, was of him polishing it with loving care. A doctor stood at the foot of the bed, and offered Andy her hand; the official who'd broken the news was not there, but a sentry, wearing a blue armband, tipped his head respectfully to Andy.

The doctor did not let go of Andy's hand immediately. Andy had preferred Assistant's grasp. But Assistant stood three paces behind her now.

"Funeral rites will begin tomorrow," the doctor said. She was older than Andy's father had been, which suddenly seemed monstrously unfair. "Here. You may see him."

So Andy stood at her father's deathbed and stared down at him. They'd closed his mouth and his eyes. He really did look like he was sleeping. But his chest did not move, and breath didn't whistle out of his nose. Andy touched one of the hands folded on his breast. It was cold. She shuddered and pulled her hand away.

"You have never seen death before."

Assistant's voice. Andy started, and turned around to see that they were alone in the room. Apparently the doctor and the sentry had departed to give them some privacy.

"You've never seen it," Assistant repeated, and there was a look in her eyes that Andy had never seen there; it was a look of almost childlike wonder. "You don't remember your mother's death, do you?" Andy shook her head. "Did you even see her body?"

"M-my dad wouldn't let me," Andy said. Just like he hadn't permitted her to know of his own failing health.

Assistant reached her hand up and traced her fingertips over Andy's cheek. Andy's dry cheek. Andy realized that she should probably be crying.

"I don't know what to do," she said. "What happens now?"

"The funeral is tomorrow," Assistant said. "And then you attend to your father's affairs. You might well be his sole inheritor."

"He might have left stuff to the Empire," Andy whispered. "He…sometimes they do, soldiers…he, he was very devoted…" She choked.

"Shush now," Assistant said, and took Andy's hand again, of her own will this time. "We'll find out soon enough."

"He didn't tell me," Andy said. "He didn't tell me."

"I know," Assistant replied, and squeezed her hand.

That night, for only the second time, Andy and Assistant lay in Andy's bed without having sex. Andy kept her face tucked into Assistant's shoulder. Assistant rubbed her back until she fell asleep. She didn't dream.

* * *

Andy was very grateful for the blue cloak she wore to the funeral service the next afternoon. It had a deep hood that covered her face from the curious stares she knew she was getting. She had to sit between officials. Assistant, of course, stood with the other personal slaves at the back of the auditorium. Her father had kept four house slaves. Two wept at his loss as if their hearts were breaking. They'd obviously known him better than Andy ever had.

"Crying because their next master won't be so kind, most likely," Andy heard a man saying after the funeral rites were over. "What a ridiculous display. You know they don't feel things like ordinary people."

Andy thought that was a dumb thing to say. Slaves were ordinary people. They came from everywhere: children whose parents sold them out of poverty, people captured during war or raids, people who had gone too deeply into debt and had only themselves left to sell for repayment.

"Why shouldn't they have cared about my father?" she husked. "Slaves can l-love people." The man, realizing he'd been overheard, went very red and bowed his head.

After the funeral, Andy retired with some people in uniforms and suits. One of them was her father's solicitor who informed her, in simple terms, that she'd inherited almost everything except for a bequest her father had set aside for the Empire: funds to build a library in one of the minor rim stations. He'd always been a big believer in education. But the rest was Andy's.

It turned out that her father had been an extremely wealthy man. Andy supposed that, on some level, she'd always known as much. Sure, she'd never worn fancy clothes or jewels, but how else could her father have afforded to transport a miniature forest between space stations every year? How else had it been possible for her to acquire some of the rarest specimens in the system? She'd just never known how wealthy 'wealthy' was. As the solicitor kindly informed her, Andy was now one of the richest women in the whole sector. Like she cared.

That night, Andy returned to her quarters still feeling as if everything was some kind of awful, bizarre dream. That in the morning her father would reappear as if nothing had ever happened. And she'd kiss his cheek and go back to her plants. To Assistant.

Assistant was waiting for her back at her rooms. Tonight, Andy realized with shock that she didn't want to go to sleep chastely. Tonight, she flung herself into Assistant's arms, seeking Assistant's mouth. Assistant gave it to her.

That, and so much more. Assistant kissed her, touched her, as if she was in a fever too, as if she, too, needed something to hold onto tonight, even if she hadn't lost what Andy had. Andy knew that in the morning she would have bruises from where Assistant grabbed and kissed her with such desperation. That was fine with Andy. Now, at last, she felt something other than blank disbelief, than shock.

When Andy had come, Assistant waited all of ten seconds before starting again, licking her way down Andy's body while Andy trembled and cried out. "Soft," she muttered. "Sweet. _Andren."_ It was the first time she'd said Andy's name while they were in bed, and Andy moaned. "So perfect," Assistant whispered.

Andy had never felt perfect, or anything like it. But tonight, of all nights, when Assistant said it with such fervent conviction, Andy allowed herself to believe that at least someone else thought it was true.

* * *

Andy stared into her porridge at breakfast the next morning. "They're packing up my dad's stuff today," she said. "So the new stationmaster can have his old quarters. I have to go through it. To decide what to keep." She gulped as she realized she didn't even know what her father had. His shiny medal had been shot out into space along with his body. The rest was a mystery. "It's--I can't believe all that stuff is--I mean, it's his. It's not mine. I feel like I shouldn't be allowed to look at it."

"But it is yours," Assistant said. "Everything is."

"I guess," Andy whispered, and picked at her food, even though Assistant hated it when she did that.

She heard Assistant take a deep breath, and prepared herself for a lecture on table manners. But instead Assistant said:

"Including his slaves."

Andy blinked, and looked up. Assistant hadn't touched her own porridge. She was regarding Andy with unwavering, almost deadly intensity. "Oh," Andy said. "I guess they are."

"We are," Assistant said, her gaze never leaving Andy's face. "Or did you forget about me as well?"

"Forget--" Andy blinked again. "Oh, I…I guess I did. I mean…I've never thought of you as…"

"I know. You care about me," Assistant said. She reached across the table and took Andy's hand. "Don't you?"

"Of course I do!" Andy said, her eyes widening. "You know that!"

"Then set me free," Assistant said.

Andy froze. Assistant's grip on her hand became very, very firm. Almost painful.

"I--I--" Andy said.

"Set me free," Assistant repeated. "You asked it of your father, once. Now it is in your hands, and yours alone."

Assistant was right. She always was. "I'd, I'd forgotten," Andy whispered. "About--I mean, of course I will. When? Oh. Right now. Of course, right now." Assistant's grip relaxed on her hand a little, though she never stopped staring right into Andy's eyes.

"Then," Andy said, swallowing hard, "once I take care of that…it won't take more than a few--" It was a surprisingly simple matter to free a slave, if you were the owner. "Oh, I need to get my dad's codes and--"

Assistant reached down into her lap and pulled up a datachip. "I retrieved it this morning," she said. "From that stack of your father's documents by the bed. Before you woke up." She placed it on the table between them.

"Oh," Andy said. For some reason, she was having a hard time breathing. "Of, of course. Um. But a-after that…I mean, would you be willing to…I'm sure you've got lots of stuff you'd rather do, but would…I mean, maybe you could help me with my dad's…"

"There is a small freighter bound for Carellian One in two hours," Assistant said. "I would like very much to be on it."

"Oh," Andy said yet again. "I…yes…" Then she shook her head, and added, "Are you…I mean, are you going to visit somebody? You'll--I mean--you'll come back--?"

Assistant slowly shook her head.

"Oh," Andy said, and began to shake.

"I cannot stay here," Assistant said, her voice as low and hypnotic as the first time she'd pinned Andy down in the dark. "I want to leave." Andy nodded wordlessly, hardly aware of what she was doing. "Let me go."

"Maybe," Andy said, feeling like she couldn't breathe at all, "if, if you wait a couple days…maybe I could c-come with…if you didn't mind…"

"I don't think that's a good idea," Assistant said.

"Oh," Andy said, "right, of course," and she stood up so fast she banged her knee on the table. Assistant looked at her with some alarm, but Andy just said, "I'm fine. I'm just going to go and--I'll take care of--" She reached down and grabbed the datachip. "You…you can stay right here. Just stay--" She was out the door before Assistant could say a word.

She didn't precisely sprint down the corridors, but she moved at a fast clip. Not fast enough to outrun her thoughts, though, which chiefly consisted of one phrase.

_"I want to leave."_

Assistant wanted to leave. Assistant, who had said Andy was perfect, delicious, so many other things. Assistant, who had kissed her, who'd started kissing her, it hadn't been Andy's idea--who'd laughed in the garden--surely Assistant cared about her a little bit? Just a little? Surely?

But there had been no caring, no passion, in the eyes of the woman who had looked at Andy across the breakfast table. Just cold, hard intent. _"I want to leave."_ She'd practically broken Andy's hand from grabbing it, she was that desperate. And she hadn't wanted Andy to tag along, either.

Why had she done all that, then? Why kissed Andy, why slept at her side every night? Why, if she didn't care?

Andy looked up, and realized her steps had led her to the Observatory. Well, this place would do as well as any other. It had a data console. She inserted the datachip and logged in. All of her father's passwords had been converted to her own.

There were five slaves listed in the chip. All but one of them had a name.

ASSISTANT:SLAVE;HOUSE  
-CAPTURE/SPL-OF-WAR

Then, just staring at the words, Andy realized it. _Capture. Spoil of war._ She remembered the cold, proud woman sitting at her kitchen table that first day, who'd tried to escape and had been bruised for her troubles. Assistant had never been happy here. Assistant had always wanted to get out.

So she had made Andy love her.

She'd said they didn't need love. But, but…but she'd also kissed Andy, told her wonderful things, made her feel special, like nobody ever had before--like she _knew_ nobody ever had before--so that Andy would love her. So that Andy would deny her nothing, when the time came. So that Andy would set her free.

"You didn't have to do that," Andy told the console.

She pressed keys and buttons, and then waited for the command to go through.

"You didn't have to," Andy said. "I would have done it anyway."

ASSISTANT:FREE  
-BY: ANDREN;GEIKER,DAUGHTER;OWNER

THIS COMMAND IS FINAL AND CANNOT BE REVERSED. PROCEED, Y/N?

"I always would have done it," Andy said, and pressed 'Y.' "I'd, I'd have done anything for you."

'ASSISTANT' NOW FREED:AWAIT NEW CHIP

A new chip popped out, next to the one Andy had slipped in. Andy removed both of them from the console, and kept staring at the monitor. She wondered if she could stare at it indefinitely. Until she could forget that the only real friend she'd ever had in her life had only stayed with her because Andy's father had forced her to, and was getting away as fast as she could at the first available opportunity.

Assistant wanted to get to Carellian One. It was the first flight out of the station. She hadn't even cared where she was going. Just that she wanted to be gone. And she didn't have any money. She couldn't afford passage on a ship.

Andy logged in again, and put Assistant's new chip back into the console. Then Andy looked at how much money she had. Assistant was going to need some to get around. (To get away.) To go places. (To go away.) She did not want to stay. She wanted to leave. She'd need money. Andy punched in a random number, and then just started pressing the 'zero' key until the computer told her she'd overdrawn her account. So she deleted a few zeroes and then it told her it was okay and she put the money on Assistant's chip.

Andy put the chip in a small bag she had hanging at her waist. It had a few seeds in it. She saw a servant boy lingering by a window in the Observatory. He glanced at her, and she waved him over. Then she gave him the bag.

"Go to my quarters," she said. "Give this to Assis--to my sl--the woman in there. It's, it's seeds," she added, and she saw the boy's eyes glaze over in instant boredom. It was for the best. Sometimes you just couldn't trust people. "Hurry. Go straight there."

"Yes, Your Ladyship," he said, and left the Observatory.

While she was at it, Andy freed her father's four slaves. Including the two who had been crying, although now that she thought about it, maybe, no, _probably_ they hadn't cared that much about her dad after all. She didn't give any of them any money, though. She didn't think she had much left. They'd have to make their own way.

Then she checked the flight schedules. One small freighter, CR-921, was slated to fly out to Carellian One forty-five minutes from now. Andy hadn't realized how much time had passed. Assistant was probably on board right now, or at least getting ready to board. Assuming the little boy had delivered the bag. Otherwise they wouldn't let her on.

Andy looked at the passenger logs. 'Assistant' had checked in on the vessel, along with ten other people whose names Andy didn't recognize.

Assistant would get a name now. She'd have to. Andy wondered what she would choose.

She left the Observatory, but instead of going to her rooms, she headed for another observation deck. From there, you could see the ships flying in and out of the main hangar bay. And soon enough, a small freighter labeled CR-921 flew out of the bay. Andy watched it go farther and farther away until it reached the hyperspace jumpoff and vanished into a small, bright point of light.

Maybe Assistant had changed her mind, Andy thought suddenly. Maybe she'd changed her mind at the very last minute, had disembarked after checking in, hadn't left the station. Maybe she was back in their rooms right now, getting ready to order dinner and wondering where Andy was.

By the time the doors to her quarters had closed behind Andy, her hands were clenched. When she called out, "Assistant?", and received no answer, they were trembling. As she wandered through the garden, checking around every tree, under every leaf, she started having trouble breathing again. By the time Andy reached Assistant's empty alcove, with its small bed neatly made, tears were running freely down her face.

The intercom buzzed. Andy gasped. After a moment of crackling silence, a man's voice said, "Lady Andren? Are you there?"

"Yes," Andy croaked.

"Your Ladyship, we understood that you would be coming to your father's quarters today," the voice said respectfully. "To take care of his possessions."

"Take care of them yourself," Andy said. "Throw them out. Give them away. Keep them. I don't care."

"But, Your Ladyship!" Now the voice sounded shocked.

"I said I don't care," Andy repeated, and then cried out, "Go away! Leave me alone! Just go away!"

"…yes, ma'am," the voice said after a few silent moments, and the crackle and static faded out.

"Just go away," Andy said to nobody at all, and sat down once again at the foot of her oak.

What did she care about her father's things? They weren't him. They wouldn't bring him back. They couldn't bring anybody back.

She sat there for hours, staring at nothing. Eventually she got up and went to bed and stared at the ceiling, which made for a change of scene. Assistant's arms did not wind around her and hold her close.

* * *

The next day, Andy discovered that the voice on the intercom had not taken her at her word. Slaves arrived carrying boxes of her father's possessions, which they stacked in the kitchen, in Assistant's alcove, in clear spaces in the garden--everywhere. Andy would be lucky if she didn't trip over them at every turn. The slaves glared at her resentfully as they left, except for one, who lingered.

"You freed your father's slaves," she said. "They found work. One with a family in the station, and three somewhere else."

"Oh," Andy said. Then she said, "Did they love him?"

The slave stared at her. "How should I know?" She paused. "Ma'am."

"I just wondered," Andy said.

The slave gave her a long look, and departed with the rest.

* * *

"Maybe she'll come back," Andy said to her second-favorite oak tree.

The oak tree didn't say anything. Cranli hopped down on her shoulder, rubbed his front legs together consolingly, and hopped away again.

"Maybe she will," Andy repeated as she packed fertilizer around some tulip bulbs. "Maybe she'll get bored out there, once she's seen…" Everything else in the universe. "She might want to come home."

The bulbs didn't answer either.

"It might take a little while," Andy acknowledged, then dropped her trowel and started to cry.

* * *

"You gave away nearly two-thirds of your cash holdings," the solicitor said.

"Oh," Andy said. "Did I?"

"Two days ago. To your slave."

"She's not my slave."

"Whyever did you do such a--well. You still have your father's various properties. And his things--I understand he had some valuable personal assets. Have you looked?"

"No. They're still in boxes."

"Might I suggest you look?"

"Is the new stationmaster going to let me stay here? I don't know what to do with my plants, otherwise."

"He says you can stay," the solicitor said, and sighed.

* * *

Andy decided that she couldn't slip up when it came to the plants. They were her family. Her children. When you got right down to it, they were always the ones who didn't leave. She owed it to them to care for them. To repay their trust. She'd always known that. She'd just forgotten for a little while.

"We'll get by just fine," she said to Cranli, as she let him out of his jar. She swallowed hard. "Or…I mean, we'll get by." She closed her eyes. "Just like before. It won't take long. You'll see."

That night, she went for a walk. She didn't go to the Observatory. She didn't think that was a good idea. Instead she went to the same observation deck where she'd watched Assistant's ship take off four days ago. Nothing was going in or out tonight. She'd heard some mention, in passing, about being more careful because pirates had started to prowl around again after months of silence.

After she went for her walk, she ordered dinner from the mess hall and ate it by herself. She used her very best table manners.

She tended her plants until the twelfth hour chimed, and then she went to bed. It was important to get on a good schedule and keep to it.

That night, she dreamed that Assistant was with her again. Then she dreamed that Assistant left her again. She woke up gasping, rolled over, and realized that she was alone in the bed, and that there was no warm spot next to her because nobody had been lying there. She immediately grabbed the second pillow and held it tight to her body, burying her face in it, mumbling a prayer that she would never dare say in daylight.

Please come back. Please, please come back.

* * *

The next day, Andy decided to return to the Observatory after all. No sense doing otherwise. Her life wasn't over just because her dad was dead, just because Assistant had left to start her own life afresh. There was no reason why she shouldn't keep doing the things she always did. The sooner she got back to normal, the better, really.

The superintendent came forward to see Andy the moment she entered the room. "My earnest sympathies, milady," he said quietly, and at his kindness, Andy almost burst into tears again. They'd never spoken much, but she'd always liked him. "I am so sorry for your losses."

"Thank you," Andy said. And then she added, "Losses?"

"Your father and your slave," he said. "You were always in here with her. I saw that you were fond of her."

Andy immediately decided to return to her quarters. "Yeah," she said. "We were…um. Thank y--"

"These are dangerous times," the superintendent said, shaking his head and looking angry. "To think of our brief respite--and now this. It's sheer brutality and barbarism, is what it is."

"Brutality and--" Andy blinked.

"That little freighter never stood a chance," the superintendent said, shaking his head again. "Not against a pirate vessel that size."

Andy just stood there and stared at him. And stared, and stared some more, wondering when he was going to laugh at his own joke, because Andy sure wasn't going to laugh at it for him.

He looked right back, his eyes widened, and he looked horrified. "You didn't know," he said.

"Know," Andy said.

"About the--but it happened three days ago," he said helplessly. "I thought everyone knew."

"Knew," Andy said.

"That freighter going to Carellian One," he said. "The CR carryall. They captured it the moment it exited hyperspace in the Carel sector, as if they were waiting for it."

"Captured," Andy said. She felt as if her body was going numb. It was a very strange feeling.

"And…and left behind," the superintendent said. Andy kept looking at him, until he finally said softly, "A wreck. They left no survivors. It was all over the newsfeeds, Your Ladyship."

"Assistant's the one who reads the newsfeeds," Andy said. Then she said, "Thank you for telling me," and turned and walked away very quickly. He did not try to stop her.

On the way, she stopped at a public access console, and surfed to a newsfeed. There was nothing about a destroyed freighter today. Maybe the superintendent had been wrong. Then she remembered he'd said it had happened three days ago. She searched the archives of the last week's news.

And there it was. CR-192. A picture of it, even, just as it had appeared when she'd seen it leaving the station. With the caption, "WRECK AND RUIN: the freighter from Epsidion One found ravaged by pirates this morning."

Below the caption was a picture of a gutted husk--the remains of the freighter. An expert said that it was the work of Mír's people, that she had reappeared after months in hiding, and was already up to her old tricks. "This kind of efficient savagery," the expert said, "can be the work of nobody else."

Andy tried to read the whole article, but the only phrase that mattered was, _"Ten passengers recorded in the logs. No survivors found."_

"The mercenaries were quickly and cleanly killed," Assistant had told her. "That is mercy, in the world of pirates."

The corridor swayed a little as Andy returned to their rooms. Her rooms. She thought maybe people were looking at her funny as she passed by, but that didn't matter.

Then she was standing in her kitchen and walking towards her garden. The kitchen floor stopped, the soft dirt started, Andy felt something hot gathering in her throat and behind her eyes, and then everything went all weird for a little while.

When she opened her eyes again, her whole body hurt. She was curled up in the dirt and panting for air. She raised her head painfully and saw that somebody had torn down her shelves from the wall and that all her precious jars had crashed to the floor.

She sat up, and her elbow slid back into something sticky. She looked down, and saw that someone had also killed Cranli. It looked like they'd taken a rock and smashed him with it over and over and over, grinding him into pieces and pulp.

Andy had wood splinters in her hands, and the rock was lying by her knee. She moaned and swayed where she sat, but she didn't pass out, even though her head hurt something fierce. But that didn't matter either.

Assistant wasn't coming back. Assistant was dead. Assistant was dead, Andy's father was dead, and nobody was coming back, ever.

"You're just a bunch of stupid plants," Andy said to her garden. "Stupid plants and bugs." The garden didn't reply. "I wish you were dead." She dug her fingernails into her scalp. "I wish you were all dead and they'd come back." Plants were no substitute for people, Assistant had said, and she'd always been right. "I wish I was dead and they'd come back. I wish it had been me."

If she hadn't let Assistant go right away. If she'd detained her for another day. Or another few hours. If Assistant hadn't been aboard that freighter. If Andy had acted differently.

But she hadn't, and she couldn't change any of it. She didn't get to make those kinds of decisions. She didn't get to decide anything at all. She never had, she'd never been used to making decisions, and the one time she'd decided, when she'd let Assistant go, she'd done it wrong. She'd made the wrong decision, and now everyone was gone.

Andy stared down at the dirt and figured that if she just sat here and didn't move, she wouldn't have to decide anything else for a while.

* * *


	5. Part Five

That night, Andy finally got up from the ground and started cleaning up the mess she'd made, trying to avoid the broken glass and mostly succeeding. She worked all night long.

The next day she checked meticulously on all the saplings. Every single one. Every single leaf. And after that, funnily enough, she sort of lost track of the days. She forgot to wash, and eat, because nobody was there to remind her, or make her. She slept wherever she lay down. And after a few days (who knew how many?), when she opened her eyes from sleep, she couldn't get up again. She couldn't move. Oh. Maybe she should try again later. She closed her eyes once more.

When she opened them again, everything was bright white and her arm hurt. "She's awake," a voice said.

A woman leaned over her. The doctor who'd attended her father's deathbed. Andy wondered if she was dead too, then realized that didn't make much sense. But what did?

"Lady Andren," the doctor said in obvious relief. "Welcome back."

_Back?_ Andy tried to say, but her mouth was too dry. She licked her lips. The doctor waved her hand, and a nurse pressed a cup of water to Andy's lips. Andy sipped. It tasted wonderful.

"You have been unconscious for two days, maybe more," the doctor said. "The new stationmaster arrived two days ago and expressed a wish to see you. You didn't respond to intercom calls, and eventually we got worried enough to check on you." She took a deep breath, and let it go. "Lucky thing, too."

The new stationmaster. Oh, that was right. Andy's father was dead, and so was Assistant. Andy opened her mouth, tried to say something, but all that came out was a very strange noise, a low, animal moan.

The doctor patted her arm. "I know you grieve your father," she said. "And your slave too, or so I hear. But shutting yourself up to starve to death is not the answer to that."

Andy wanted to say that she hadn't meant to do any such thing, that nobody had reminded her to eat. But maybe that would sound stupid to a doctor.

"We've got you on a nutrient drip," the doctor continued. "When you're well enough, you can go back to your quarters, if you understand that we'll be checking on you." Andy nodded. "But for now you stay here. Stay and just rest." The doctor patted her arm. again. "Just rest, that's all."

"I killed my bug," Andy said. "My praying mantis." She shut her eyes, wondering if she could keep them closed forever.

"Did you?"

"His name was Cranli. He was her favorite, too."

"I'm sorry. It's all right. Rest," the doctor said again, and her voice was kind.

"I killed both of them."

"You killed no one." Now the doctor's voice was much firmer, though not sharp at all. "The pirates killed your slave. Not you. You must understand this." She reached up and touched a button. "I'm sending a sedative down your nutrient tube. Now: rest."

"It won't make me dream, will it?" Andy said, but then she fell asleep before the doctor could reply.

* * *

Andy spent a week in the hospital substation. She figured by the third day that she was well enough to get around on her own, but they were keeping an eye on her anyway. It was all right. The same two nurses tended to her on rotation, and sometimes the doctor, so she didn't feel too overwhelmed by lots of new people. And the nurses were nice: caring, compassionate, and they never took no for an answer. They made her talk, even if it was just about silly stuff: her plants (which they assured her were being cared for), goings-on at the station, new fashions or music, whatever. A lot of times Andy just listened blankly to their chatter because she had no idea what was going on, but it was better than the aching, endless silence that enveloped her at night. She needed sedatives to sleep.

She liked the sedatives. She even liked the chatter. She liked anything that wouldn't let her think.

But on the fifth day, Rellin, the younger nurse, hurried into Andy's room, looking both agitated and excited. "Did you hear the newsholos?" he asked, sounding breathless.

Andy and Eylen both looked up in surprise. "Rellin, I'm in the middle of checking Her Ladyship's blood pressure," Eylen said sternly. "You know not to get her excited."

"Carel fell!" he said. "They surrendered!"

Eylen sat up very straight, her eyes going wide. Evidently she knew something Andy didn't. "Surrendered?" Andy said. "To what?"

"To Mír's fleet," he said. At Eylen's glare, he said, "Look, she would've found out soon enough."

"Mír's fleet?" Andy said, thinking of the Carel sector, where Assistant had died, where they said it had been the work of Mír because nobody else was that awful. There were three stations there: Carellian One, where Assistant had wanted to go, was the biggest. "I didn't know--"

Eylen was still glaring at Rellin. "We've heard rumors of pirates out there," she said. "I'm sorry to upset you, Your Ladyship."

"All three stations?" Andy whispered, wondering how many thousand dead there were.

"All three," Rellin confirmed.

"Rest their souls," Eylen said quietly.

"No, no," Rellin said quickly. "That's just it. They surrendered to Mír. They didn't even put up a fight."

"When has that ever stopped her?" Eylen said.

"They didn't just surrender to her," Rellin said. "They joined her."

There was a very, very long period of silence. Then Andy summed the whole situation up succinctly by saying, "What?"

* * *

If Andy had expected Imperial forces to rally quickly, to defend or take back Carel, she was mistaken. If anything, the Parliament seemed intent on dithering endlessly about what should be done, and for two days nothing was done at all. The Emperor made no statements, although a few images of him found their way into the newsfeeds--chiefly he looked anxious and sweaty.

In the end, three days after Mír's forces had taken over or deputized all three Carellian stations, the Empire sent a diplomatic vessel to meet with Mír. The vessel was destroyed within an hour of its arrival in the sector, without meeting with anyone.

Mír's ships had not destroyed it. Carellian Two's crew had. The crew who had surrendered to her and joined her as if they had only been waiting for the opportunity. Perhaps they had.

Reports made their way back to the homeworld: reports of the strength of Mír's fleet, her apparently limitless reserves of wealth and firepower, the fanatical devotion of her crew. There were even whispers that the Empire wasn't immediately moving to stop her because, quite simply, it couldn't.

The pirate queen now had an entire Imperial outpost for her playground. Nobody could predict what she would do next, once she was settled. Nobody had ever been able to.

The Empire held its breath.

* * *

"Transmission for Your Ladyship," a messenger boy said at the door of Andy's quarters.

Andy had come home yesterday, after a week in the hospital, with the understanding that Eylen would stop by to check on her tomorrow morning and make sure that all was well. Andy could already tell that her plants had received substandard care in her absence; the seedlings alone would need careful attention if they were to recover. Andy tried to tell herself that she cared about this.

"Thank you," she said to the boy, and took the chip, inserting it into her datapad. Because of the trouble with the pirates, private transmissions were now screened. Some people in the station were getting political about it, saying it was an invasion of privacy or violation of rights or something, but Andy found she couldn't care less. Why would anybody write to her about anything important?

The transmission was a reply from _Botany Today._ Only two weeks ago, with Assistant at her side, Andy would have been in a frenzy to read it. Today, she skimmed indifferently over the words: _"Not the first to come forward with allegations…if you can offer proof…would welcome more information…anxiously awaiting your reply."_

They'd have a long wait. Andy tossed the datachip down the garbage chute and sat quietly at her kitchen table for a while.

* * *

A month after her "episode," as the nurses called it, Rellin and Eylen were still regularly stopping by Andy's quarters to say hello. They appeared to have grown fond of her, for some reason.

She was fond of them too, she supposed. They were nice. They didn't really stand to gain anything from being nice, either. She wasn't the stationmaster's daughter anymore, and she couldn't do much for them one way or the other. So maybe it was okay when they smiled at her, or stopped by her quarters for a friendly word.

"I only saw your slave from a distance, of course," Eylen said in Andy's rooms, over a cup of tea. "Your…Assistant, you called her?"

"She didn't want a name," Andy said, looking down into her cup, remembering that Eylen was sitting in Assistant's chair, the chair where Assistant had asked her why she was so alone all the time, or talked about things she wanted to do to Andy in bed. "I asked her if she did. But she didn't."

"She seemed like a proud one," Eylen said. "I could tell just from looking at her. The way she held herself. Nose in the air. Too good for everyone, I'm sure she felt."

"That's not true," Andy said, still looking in her tea. "She was just unhappy. She hated it here. That's all it was."

"Well, I'm sure I don't know why." Eylen sniffed, and then added more gently, "But I am sorry about what happened to her."

"I…" A month later, and Andy still felt like she was going to die every time she thought about Assistant's face, her voice. She still lay awake most of the night, still had nightmares, still needed sedatives every few days just to get some rest. But she didn't want to go back to the hospital. So she didn't say anything but, "Yeah."

"It was odd though," Eylen added, "that little freighter. I wonder what they wanted it for? Why did they attack it before going for the main station?" She shook her head. "And they've been too quiet since then. I don't like it. A dreadful shock, that sector turning traitor." She gave Andy a hesitant glance. "Your father would have known what to do better than this new man," she said.

Oddly, thinking about her father's death didn't hurt nearly as much as thinking about Assistant's. But it still hurt. "Yeah," Andy repeated. Eylen had a point. Andy's father had always been one of the best in the business when it came to thwarting pirates and keeping his own people safe. Andy had never really been involved with any of that (nor cared much), but even she had heard things. And apparently the new man wasn't coming up to scratch.

"But thank goodness it's out of our hands, eh?" Eylen added. "I wouldn't want to be in his place."

"No," Andy said, and deliberately did not look towards the alcove where Assistant wasn't, and never would be again.

* * *

That night, Andy dreamed yet again of Assistant. She often did--vague, fleeting, nightmarish impressions that never added up to much, except that she woke up crying every time.

But tonight she dreamed of Assistant in her white dress, walking away from her towards a door. "Come back," Andy implored. "Please, please come back." Assistant did not turn around, or even act as if she'd heard Andy.

Andy, who longed to run to her, to stop her, couldn't move. "They're going to kill you!" she cried. "Don't get on the ship! Can't you hear me? Please come back!"

Assistant kept walking. And before Andy's eyes, the doorway vanished, and she realized that Assistant was walking into a sun: something so bright and terrible it hurt Andy to look at it. But Assistant never wavered, and Andy could only watch helplessly as she strode confidently into the heart of the star, until she became nothing but light and flame.

* * *

The next day, the Thellian sector, adjacent to Carel, announced its allegiance to Mír.

It had not been attacked. It had not been under siege. It had not even been under the threat of siege. And it welcomed the peaceful arrival of Mír's flagship, the _Crown Lily_ , with open arms. Within days, the flag of the Empire had vanished, and Mír's colors ran high in its place.

Four days later, Ankar, next to Thell, announced its decision, not to 'surrender,' but 'ally itself to the rebel cause against a corrupt and decadent Empire.' Which was when everybody else finally figured it out.

Mír was no longer looting and pillaging. Mír was quickly but methodically making her way around the Empire's periphery, offering better deals to neglected, out-of-the-way stations than the Empire did. Offering protection, manpower, and wealth. Offering a change. Offering a "cause."

She was not leading a band of ruffians. She was leading a revolution.

* * *

"But the Empire can't just sit there!" Andy said. She, Eylen, Rellin, and Doctor Ishti were sitting in the mess hall over cups of coffee. "They're supposed to protect us--they can't just let this, this monster--"

"Protect us from what?" Ishti said. "All three of the sectors have either surrendered peacefully or actively offered their allegiance. They want Mír there. For whatever reason."

"Why would anybody want her?" Andy asked, appalled. "Doesn't everybody know what she _is?"_

"Compared to the Emperor?" Rellin said. "Maybe she's not so bad." The three women stared at him. He squirmed, but added defiantly, "She's doing things. Taking care of things. Everybody knows the Kazir are out there, and the Empire won't admit it--but her fleet can hold them off. And it's getting bigger every day!" This was true. Ships from all the sectors were flocking to Carel, Thell, and Ankar to join her group, while the Empire still trembled with indecision. "What has the Empire ever done, except tax us for services they don't even provide?"

"The Empire never killed any of us either," Andy said venomously. She didn't think she'd ever spoken in that tone of voice in her life before. "They never blew up our ships and slaughtered a bunch of innocent people." The other three looked at her in surprise.

"I mean, I'm not saying she's a nice person," Rellin said awkwardly.

"I want her to die," Andy said. They stared some more.

"The good news is, she will," Ishti said gently, and reached out to pat Andy's arm. "That's the only sure outcome for all of us, isn't it?"

* * *

What killed Andy--well, what nearly killed her, anyway--was the money. The money she'd given to Assistant. She didn't want it for herself; she didn't particularly need it, although she was starting to realize how expensive it was to keep up a large garden, and feared she'd have to cut corners soon. No, what enraged her (and she had never before known rage) was this:

She'd given Assistant lots of money, in the full knowledge that Assistant was going away and might never return. She'd given it with a breaking, but full heart--with all the love Assistant had claimed Andy "knew nothing about." She had hoped Assistant would be able to start a new life for herself, in fine style, no less--to find somewhere she could be truly happy and free.

All that money was in the hands of the pirates now. Filling the coffers of Assistant's killers. Helping to fuel Mír's rebellion instead of giving Assistant everything she'd ever wanted. It wasn't just unfair. It was hideous, horrible, no, it was _evil,_ that was the only word for it. Every time Andy thought about it, which was often, her throat filled up and she wanted to scream. Sometimes, when she was alone in the night, she did.

She wished she knew what Mír looked like. She wished she had a face to pin her fury and misery on. It wasn't difficult to hate someone without a face, but it was frustrating and unsatisfying.

However, a week after Thell announced its allegiance to Mír's rebellion, Andy got part of her wish. For the first time ever, Mír appeared in holos and clips. Never her face, and always from a distance: a body clad in black armor and helm, covered from head to toe, gun on one hip and sword on the other. Even from far away, she looked nothing like the shabby little mercenaries Andy's father had captured from time to time, and even Andy could admit that it would be easy enough to follow someone with that sort of presence, that air of command. If that someone hadn't killed your favorite person in the universe, anyway. Which was a pretty big deal-breaker.

She probably would be a better leader then the Emperor. She probably would provide a better defense against the Kazir. She could probably do a lot of things. But Andy didn't care if Mír could bring a millennium of peace and prosperity to the system, and then the galaxy, and then the universe; nothing she ever did could make up for killing Assistant. Nothing.

Worse: nothing Andy could ever do would make any difference to someone like Mír. Any difference at all.

* * *

The same day that Mír appeared in holos (that quickly found their way all over the system), Andy finally finished going through all of her father's things.

Much of it she'd given away: clothes, shoes, any personal things that might be useful to charities and such. Some of it she'd tossed out. A few things she'd keep in storage. What puzzled her were the boxes and boxes of holochips. Hundreds of pictures. Thousands. Of places her father had been, people he'd known--a whole life he had apparently lived in the public eye and without Andy's knowledge. While she'd been puttering around in her garden, or suffering through school, he'd been having lunch with an ambassador from Ceta Five or going to a ball on the homeworld with glittering, shining people.

Of course, Andy had never wanted to do any of that stuff with him. Just the idea of it scared her. But…but it might have been nice if he'd asked. Just once.

And then there were the pictures of her mother. There was, in fact, a whole box devoted to datachips of pictures of her mother, apparently chronicling her life from birth to death--pictures of her as a child, as an awkward teenager (who really did look remarkably like Andy had at that age), as an astonishingly beautiful young woman (who surely didn't look like Andy at all--surely?). There were pictures of her parents' wedding, of them on various trips and vacations, of Andy's own birth.

In all of them, Andy's father was radiantly happy. He wore a smile Andy had never seen, or could never remember seeing, on his living face. Just being near Andy's mother, near his wife, appeared to be a source of limitless energy and pleasure for him.

There were pictures of Andy too, but they were a lot fewer after Andy hit seven years old. After her mother died. She'd always known her dad had sort of lost interest in her, but it was stunning, and hurtful, to see that in empirical proof by all the pictures that suddenly weren't there. In the pictures that showed them as a family, Andy's mother always held her close, always smiled at her, laughed over her, kissed her and dandled her; Andy's father looked at Andy's mother with love in his eyes, and rarely at Andy herself. Without her mom in the frame, Andy supposed there hadn't been much reason to take pictures of her anymore.

They'd been married ten years by the time Andy's mother had died. Would he have felt the same if he'd known her for as short a span of time as Andy had known Assistant? Would his grief have poisoned his life a little less? Or--on the flipside--if Andy had known and loved Assistant for ten years, if they'd had that decade together, would her own pain be even worse? She didn't like to imagine what that would be like.

"You were his responsibility," Assistant had said. "Grief or not, he had no right to abandon you."

Andy bowed her head, and wondered if maybe she was more like her father than she cared to admit. After Assistant's death, nothing seemed as important as it had before. In fact, Andy often selfishly wished her father alive again--not for his own sake, but because while he'd lived, Assistant had been with Andy. Had lived as well. Without her, Andy had stopped caring about eating, sleeping, hygiene--and about her plants. Her own children. Her own responsibilities that she had no right to abandon. Assistant would never have approved of that.

So that was no good. Responsibility. Caring for her garden. She had to do that. Maybe soon she'd even enjoy doing that once more. She'd even started making some medicines for the hospital now, at Dr. Ishti's request. Of course, they weren't exactly standardized medications--home remedies, at best--and Andy often wondered if the doctor didn't just order them to make Andy feel useful, and then throw them away. But she never asked. She didn't want to know. It was another responsibility. And even if it felt like it was going to crush her eventually, it was probably good for her too.

Speaking of which, the flowerbeds needed watering now. Andy sighed, and tossed the datachips back in the box. She'd figure out what to do with them later.

That night Andy dreamed yet again that Assistant was walking towards the doorway. She had this dream nearly every night now, and always woke up straining for air. Yet again, the doorway turned into a sun; yet again, Assistant ignored Andy's pleas; yet again Andy watched her vanish into the fire and brilliance.

But tonight was different. Tonight, even in her dream, Andy knew she couldn't bear it anymore; knew she couldn't bear waking up without Assistant there, working in the garden and eating without her, talking to other people and thinking about her the whole time, going through every hour of every day knowing she would never see Assistant again and that people expected her to get over it eventually. And worst of all, that maybe she _would_ , she'd just go back to being the weird girl who played with plants, and she'd forget how much she had loved another human being.

So tonight Andy ran after Assistant, ran towards the star, which got bigger and brighter and hotter as she approached. She couldn't see Assistant. As the light got brighter, she couldn't see anything. She cried out, "Where are you?" but nobody replied, and Andy kept stumbling forward, feeling her dress catch fire, wondering if she would find Assistant before she--they--roasted to death. She had to try. Even if she failed, even if she burned, it was better than…better than…

Andy woke up, trembling and gasping as always. And this time, stronger than grief, she felt the sting of failure. She hadn't been fast enough, hadn't tried hard enough, hadn't been in time, had lost Assistant in the star.

She should probably want to get over this. She didn't. And she couldn't.

* * *

"There has to be something we can do," Andy pleaded, twisting her hands.

The new stationmaster, a man named Koll, regarded her compassionately. He was a tall, thin stick of a man with a long, lean face and deep green eyes that didn't really seem to see her. "I understand you are grieving, Lady Andren," he said. "But surely you know there is nothing to be done."

Andy stared at him in frustration. It was two weeks since Thell had defected, and Mír's fleet was swelling. Surely it was only a matter of time until she made another move. "But don't you want to help?" Andy said. "I mean--My Lord, the stations near Thell and Carel--they're sitting ducks. I bet, I bet if they had a little more support, more soldiers, more--"

"I can on no account spare any of our soldiers," Koll said firmly. "And unless Homeworld Command itself tells me to do so, they will stay right here."

"But the pirate fleet isn't even near here," Andy said. "They're half the system away. They're going station by station. You could help stop them long before they arrived!"

"Lady Andren, I understand you are an expert botanist," Koll said, a smile on his lips and a sneer in his eyes. "But you are, with respect, no tactician."

"My father never would have stood by like this," Andy flared, and Koll's eyes went cold.

"Thank you for your visit," he said. "And please do call ahead next time. I'm afraid my schedule might not be as flexible as it was today."

Andy ground her teeth all the way back to her quarters. This was ridiculous. Surely somebody, somewhere in the Empire, was planning to do something about the fact that a murdering pirate was set to take over everything? Surely nobody was going to sit and do _nothing_ while it happened?

Perhaps Assistant had been right. Of course she had. She'd always been right! She'd said the Empire had been useless, relied too much on insufficiently-protected perimeters while the center grew weak and decadent, like a rotting tooth. Maybe that was true. Once Mír gained enough of a foothold on the rim, nothing would stop her from advancing inward until she had control of the homeworld itself, if she wanted.

Feeling helpless, that was the worst. If there was only some kind of war effort Andy could contribute to--a fund, supplies, heck, even making medicines from her plants--something she could do…but there was nothing. And it looked like nobody would be interested if she tried to organize something all by herself. Not that she knew how to do such a thing.

Andy's door hissed shut behind her, and she stood in her kitchen, staring at her soft, frail hands, trying to imagine them tearing through a suit of black armor like paper.

* * *

Two nights later, at the hour when most people were asleep, the station's security tower went dark and silent. All power except for emergency life support failed. The force fields went down. In the space of a few seconds, the entire space station was as vulnerable as a naked child in a desert.

There was a shiver of space, a flicker of light, outside the station windows. And then, in the blink of an eye, what appeared to be a hundred ships uncloaked, surrounding the whole station with cannons mounted and trained on every hangar bay, in case anyone got funny ideas about fleeing or fighting back. And in the middle of all of them, an enormous, black-hulled ship, almost grotesque in its power and menace, stared down the security tower itself.

It didn't take long for the panicked graveyard shift to put the entire station on red alert. Almost as fast as the red alert spread the news that a silver lily shimmered on the side of the enormous black ship. And in less than an hour, twenty thousand people, sitting ducks all, knew that Mír had come.

* * *


	6. Part Six

Huddled beneath her favorite tree, Andy wondered how it had happened so quickly. The station had strong defenses, many of them implemented by her own father. But they'd been bypassed like they were nothing. Like the pirates had known every weak point, had known how to override every failsafe. Not a single shot had been fired in the station's defense; with the station's shields down, and with enemy ships surrounding it like a sea, to fight back would be nothing short of suicide.

Andy remembered Assistant's fate, remembered that a quick death was mercy in the world of pirates, and thought that maybe suicide wasn't such a bad idea--that was, to go down fighting, instead of hoping for clemency that would never come. She hugged her knees to her chest and leaned against the tree trunk, just as she had done when her father had died, and countless times since then, always looking for comfort that remained just as elusive.

And it wasn't just that it had happened so fast--Andy couldn't figure out why it had happened at all. Their station wasn't anywhere close to Thell, Ankar, or Carel. They hadn't made any overtures of peace or friendship to Mír--thank goodness, Andy couldn't have endured the shame--and it must have been an enormous effort to get here, and to bring such a large fleet, when there were smaller (and more eager) targets nearby. Why had Mír come here, of all places?

Just then, the stationwide intercom crackled to life. Andy jumped as a trying-to-be-calm voice announced, _"All crew and family members to remain in quarters. Do not stir outside. Repeat: DO NOT try to override the lockdown on your quarters. Pirates have boarded the station."_ Andy hid her face in her knees. So this was it. This was how it happened--just waiting for the end, instead of doing something. She felt like she'd been waiting all of her life, though she'd never known for what until Assistant had come, and now she was going to die waiting, too.

She remembered the last time she and Assistant had been together--the frenzy of it, the desperation Andy had felt, like she was trying to fight off death itself and forget what had happened to her father. It sure would be nice if Assistant was here now. At least they could have passed their final hours doing something fun together, instead of dying too far apart in space and time. It would be nice to have that one last thing, for one last time.

Time seemed to crawl. Andy had deliberately placed herself where she could see the clock from beneath the tree, curious to see how many minutes it would take before her life was over. She was surprised at how scared she wasn't. Then again, none of this felt real--more like a child's game, like the stationmaster would get on the intercom any second and say, "Just kidding!"

Then, even as she thought about it, the intercom crackled again. And it was the stationmaster. But it wasn't a station-wide announcement; instead, Lord Koll said in a hesitant voice, "Lady Andren? Are you there?"

For a moment, Andy couldn't respond. This was too unexpected. It seemed highly unlikely that Koll was calling to apologize for their earlier conversation and to concede that she'd been right all along about the pirate threat. Then she rallied and said, "Um…yes?"

"Are you all right?"

What? "I--yes," Andy said. "I mean, I guess?"

"Thank goodness," he said, and sounded relieved. "I need you to come to my office right away."

"Me?" Andy blinked. "What for? Isn't the whole place on lockdown?"

"We can, er, unlock your door," Koll said. "So if you could just--"

"But I thought the pirates were here!" Andy said. She rose to her feet and hurried towards the intercom, as if speaking right into it would somehow help her understand what was going on. "What are you doing? What's happening?"

"Yes, Your Ladyship," Koll said, his voice decidedly strained now. "They are here. In my office, actually. In fact, the pirates have demanded you come," he finished heavily. Then, "Ah! Very well. Excuse me. The _rebels_ have demanded you come."

"What?" Andy's jaw dropped. "Why?"

"Their lieutenant has declined to answer," Koll said, "and yet, looking at him right now, I believe that he is a man unaccustomed to refusal. Lady Andren, please come right away."

What the heck was this? What could a bunch of pirates possibly want with Andy? They probably didn't need her advice on planting seeds. The only possible reason was…

She'd been Lord Geiker's daughter. And her father had always been a dangerous foe to pirates. Was this revenge on a dead man? Something to send a message to the rest of the Empire? Were these bullying cowards out to kill Andy just like they'd killed Assistant--another woman who'd never done anybody any harm, just one unarmed person up against a whole pack of bloodthirsty mercenaries?

Andy saw red. She began to shake with anger.

"Lady Andren?" Koll prompted, sounding extremely nervous now.

"Forget it," Andy heard herself say. "I'm not coming."

"You're--what?" Koll obviously couldn't believe his ears. "Lady, the station is surrounded by pirates on all sides--this is the only demand they have made of us thus far--"

"Oh, is it?" Andy said, nearly panting. "Is it? Well, if it's so important, then--then--they can _darn well_ come and get me!" Before Koll could object, she mashed her thumb against the intercom's power button, and turned it off, which was quite against station regulations.

Then she stood in her kitchen, trembling at what she'd just done. She'd just invited a bunch of murdering pirates to attack her in her own quarters. She'd probably just made them angrier. They might even want to take it out on her plants. Stricken at even the thought, Andy flew back into the foliage and wrapped her arms around her second-favorite tree.

What could she do? Nothing, really. Now that she'd taunted them, she could count on rougher treatment. It would probably be easier if she just behaved meekly when they came to get her. But the thought galled her to the core. Still--what could she do? She didn't have a gun, and even if she did, she'd certainly have no idea how to use it. Maybe she could attack them with a pair of pruning shears. Or the edge of her trowel. She chewed on her knuckle in agitation and tried to think.

Then she heard footsteps outside her door. Loud, heavy-booted footsteps. Several of them. And that was when Andy finally got scared. Her mouth went dry, she started sweating, her heart pounded so hard she could hardly breathe. Before she could think about it, she darted away from the door, back to a farther corner of the garden, hiding behind an enormous leaf of _filathen merins_.

The door opened, and the heavy footsteps tramped inside. Andy was shaking so hard that it felt like the whole garden trembled with her.

A man's voice, loud and harsh, said, "Andren? Daughter of Geiker?"

Andy gulped, and realized she didn't have the breath to respond. All of a sudden, this felt quite real, not like a child's game at all, and she very much didn't want to die--even if life was painful, it was still _life_. She didn't know what to do. Then she saw it: a medium-sized shovel propped up against a wall.

"Do we have the right room?" another voice, a woman's voice, said.

"Do you think there's more than one suite on this station with a jungle in it?" the man snapped.

"Lady Andren," a third voice, another man, called out. "We know you're in here. We heard you talking to Lord Koll." Andy gripped the shovel in her hands and hefted it, quivering all over. "Show yourself. I promise you will not come to harm."

Oh, sure. Andy wondered if they'd said that before boarding Assistant's freighter and killing everyone on board. And all of a sudden, it really hit her: these were Mír's people. They might even have been the exact same pirates who'd killed Assistant. Who was to say otherwise? And even if they weren't, they might know the pirates who did, they were all part of the same crew, the same evil, murderous--

"Fan out," the second man sighed, and Andy heard footsteps moving into her garden. "Lady Andren," he continued, his voice heading to the other side of her quarters, "I repeat, we mean you no harm. Our orders have only been to bring you to the _Crown Lily_ in safety." Huh? Andy blinked. That didn't make any sense. Unless for some symbolic reason they'd decided to kill her on Mír's ship instead of the space station, which might very well be the case. "You are in no danger," the man said.

"She said this would be easy," growled the first man, and Andy almost cried out when she realized that he'd prowled much closer to her corner of the garden. She hadn't heard him. But now, through the leaf, she could see him--a large, rough-looking man with a prominent forehead and a stubbled jaw. He had enormous hands. The very picture of pirate-ness. He was probably very good with a gun and a sword and hurting people and killing them and--

"This isn't hard," the woman replied patiently. "She's in here somewhere."

"She'd better be," the rough-looking man said. "All I know is, I won't be the one who tells the queen, 'Sorry, we couldn't find a'--"

He pushed Andy's leaf aside, and his eyes widened as he said, "--'little slip of a girl'--" before Andy cracked him sharply over the head with the flat of the shovel. Then he yelled and staggered backwards, covering his head with one hand, raising the other hand to ward off Andy's next blow, which she brought down with all her might. That one sent him to his knees.

"You--evil--" Andy cried, "murdering--horrible--you killed her, _you killed her!"_ She raised her arms again, but by now the pirate had recovered, and jumped up from his knees, seizing Andy's shovel in a very firm grip. Andy immediately kicked him in the shin.

"What the hell is going on over there?" the second man's voice demanded, and he and the woman pirate burst into view to see Andy kicking and shoving at the first pirate.

"You killed her!" Andy repeated, nearly blinded by tears. "She's dead--you--you--"

The first man wrenched the shovel from Andy and tossed it away, and then spun Andy around like a top and held her so that she was facing away from him while he pinned her arms behind her back. She couldn't hit or scratch him, and it was harder to kick him, too. All she could say, over and over, was, "You killed her--you--"

"Well, I found her," he grunted.

"Looks like it," the woman, short and muscular, said. Then she added, "My God, can't you shut her up?"

"May Mír forgive me," said the second man, and before Andy could say anything else, he shot her.

* * *

When Andy opened her eyes, the first thing she saw was a splendidly potted and cared-for _barmensis nobu_ sitting on a small table across from her bed. Her enormous and extremely comfortable bed. Which was not the bed in her quarters.

Andy blinked. The last thing she remembered, a pirate had shot her. So, was she dead now? In some kind of pleasant afterlife? She didn't think so. Her head hurt too much. She raised a hand--her arm felt very heavy--and rubbed her forehead.

Then she sat up. She definitely wasn't in her quarters. So where was she? Andy slid out of bed and got unsteadily to her feet. The rug was soft beneath her toes. She wandered out of the bedroom and beheld another, enormous room: it wasn't so much a suite as it was one cavernous space arranged so that there was a different place for everything--a sitting-area, an office, even a fountain in the middle of it all. But the central focus was the enormous, floor-to-ceiling window, through which Andy could see dozens of pirate ships and…and the control tower of the space-station, facing her directly.

She was on a pirate ship. No. She was on _the_ pirate ship. The _Crown Lily_. Andy gasped and clasped her hands at her breast.

So they'd shot her with a stun-gun, then, and dragged her to--to--well, where was she? This didn't exactly look like a torture chamber. Andy knew that part of her fuzzy-headedness was the fault of the stun-gun, but she had a hunch that even without it she'd have been pretty confused.

She wandered down to the window and pressed her hand against the glass. It was so strange, seeing the station like this. Feeling so exposed by this enormous window, even though she knew that nobody outside would be able to look in and see her. She wondered what was going on in the station itself--were the pirates rounding up people? Were they killing them? Or was everybody still in lockdown, still waiting for doom to fall? Andy shuddered. Meanwhile, she was waiting for the very same thing here, and she didn't even have her plants anymore.

She heard the hissing of a door to her left. She jumped--she hadn't even realized there was a door there. And then she whirled around to see who was coming.

Assistant glided through the door, clad in a long black gown, looking right at Andy with her beautiful blue eyes.

Andy stared at her. Then her legs gave out and she landed smack on her rear. Assistant paused and looked down at her with raised eyebrows that said more than words ever could; the familiar bemused, beloved smile tugged at her lips.

A sound emerged from Andy's mouth that wanted to be a cry, but couldn't be, because she didn't have enough air in her lungs. And then, before she knew it, she'd jumped to her feet, flown to Assistant, and thrown her arms around her while gasping out, "You're alive! You're alive! Oh my gosh! You're alive!"

Assistant staggered backwards slightly as Andy slammed into her, making an 'oof' noise. But she slid her arms around Andy's waist all the same, patting her back soothingly.

Only Andy couldn't be soothed. How could you soothe joy like this? "How, how," she sobbed, pressing her face hard against Assistant's throat, inhaling her familiar, wonderful scent, "how is this--how are you--I thought you were dead, they said you were dead--"

"Dead?" Assistant said, and the sound of her voice alone was enough to make Andy sob again. "No, I'm not dead."

"B-b-but the freighter," Andy wailed, pulling backwards far enough so that she could see Assistant's face, which was a little blurry on account of all the tears in Andy's eyes. "They showed pictures--it was gutted--"

"There were ten survivors, as a matter of fact," Assistant said, and brushed her thumb gently over Andy's wet cheek. She wore an enormous ring on her index finger. "Although nine are now prisoners of the fleet. But alive, nevertheless."

"P-prisoners?" Andy blinked. Assistant had been taken prisoner, too? Were they trapped here together? But--but that was okay. Being a prisoner with Assistant would be okay. Assistant was alive and everything in the universe was a thousand times better--Andy still couldn't believe it--it was asking too much, that more than a month of grief should be overcome in one minute--

"I have to sit down," she said.

"I think you'd better," Assistant agreed, and slid her arm around Andy's shoulders, helping her to a nearby sofa, where they sat down together. "Take deep breaths," she instructed.

"Truh, truh, trying," Andy said, and indeed, she tried. After the third deep breath, she didn't feel quite so much that she was either going to pass out or start screaming.

There was a box of tissues on the end table; Assistant offered a tissue to Andy, and looked away politely while Andy blew her nose in it. "Better?" she asked.

"I, I guess," Andy said. Then she added, "No," and held out her arms again, shaking like a leaf. Assistant obligingly reached out, pulled Andy in, and held her close so that Andy could feel her, smell her, hear her heartbeat.

"There now," Assistant said after a long moment, patting her back again. "This is far too much carrying-on for a girl who ambushed a member of the Honor Guard. You are lucky you weren't hurt," she added sharply. "They have very fast reflexes. Thankfully they have faster brains, and he didn't break your neck. What possessed you?"

"I don't know," Andy whispered. "I, I just got a little upset."

"A little upset," Assistant mused, and stroked Andy's cheek. "I wish I could have seen that. You with a shovel in your hands, using it like a club." She chuckled.

"It's not funny," Andy rasped, and Assistant stopped chuckling. Maybe the raw pain in Andy's voice had gotten to her. "I thought they'd killed you. I wanted to hurt them, too. To k-kill them, even."

"Did you?" Now Assistant sounded troubled. But her expression was benign enough as she pushed Andy to arms' length. "Let me look at you." Apparently she didn't like what she saw, and she scowled. "What's happened to you?"

"Pirates stunned me," Andy said.

"You look like you haven't eaten since I left," Assistant accused. "Nor slept."

"I sleep and eat," Andy said defensively. Well--when she remembered to eat a ration bar, or take her sedatives, or when Eylen or Rellin or Dr. Ishti reminded her. It was better than nothing.

"Skin and bones," Assistant said. "How did you even lift that shovel?" Her scowl was deepening.

With Assistant alive and well in front of her, it suddenly seemed foolish to say that grief had made Andy lose her appetite. "I'm sorry," she said instead.

"Well, we've had one 'gosh' and one apology already," Assistant said. "Things are almost back to normal." But she still sounded troubled as she rubbed one warm hand up and down Andy's arm. "Did you come down with something?"

"Um…no…" Andy bowed her head and looked at her lap. Might as well admit it. "I missed you," she husked. "I thought you were dead."

"Hmm," Assistant said. She kept her hand on Andy's arm. "If that's how it is, I'm glad I came when I did."

Andy blinked at her. "You came?"

Assistant looked surprisingly hesitant. And then she said, "Yes. I came."

"But where are we?" Andy whispered. She glanced around the room. "This place is huge!"

"These are my rooms," Assistant said. Then she amended: "Our rooms."

"Ours?" Andy stared at her. "What? We're--huh?" She pushed her hair out of her face with a trembling hand and looked into Assistant's piercing blue eyes. Assistant was looking back at her with the expression she'd worn across Andy's kitchen table on that terrible day when she'd asked to be set free. Assessing Andy, looking right down into the bottom of her soul, and seeing everything Andy couldn't hide.

Assistant reached up and rubbed her thumb over Andy's bottom lip, and then her chin. "Andren," she said gently, "who am I?"

Andy longed to say, 'What?' or, 'I don't understand.' But she couldn't. Because she was suddenly too busy thinking about too many things all at once.

Like the fact that the pirate attacks had stopped right around the time Assistant was captured from that scouting rig. And that they'd started up again once her freighter had been attacked. And that Assistant had always been the cleverest, most authoritative person Andy had ever met, including her own dad. And that, for a humble slave, Assistant had always seemed to know an awful lot about, about…

Andy felt all the blood draining out of her face as she looked right into the eyes of Mír, the pirate queen.

"Who am I?" Assist--no-- _she_ repeated.

"M-Mír," Andy croaked. "You're…you're Mír."

"Yes," Mír said, and let her hand fall from Andy's chin down into her own, black-robed lap. Black ship, black armor, black gown…Andy's head spun.

"But…but, when you were captured…they thought, they said--you were a slave--"

"Yes. It's a funny thing, survival," Mír said, looking thoughtful. "How easily the urge for it overcomes pride. When I looked around and realized that my crew was dead, and that our scouter was about to be boarded…" She shrugged. "I had a slave on board. She had a spare dress. I dropped my gun and sword and decided it would be best to be someone else for a while."

"What happened to her?" Andy said inanely, in the face of all the other, more pressing questions she didn't want to ask.

"Didn't I mention that my crew was dead?" Mír said sharply. "I don't know why I was spared, Andren." She chuckled ruefully. "Although they say nothing can kill me. Would it be tempting fate to wonder if that's true?"

"You--you--seventy-six men from the station," Andy said, and hid her face in her hands, shaking harder than ever. "It was you. It was you--"

"Andren--"

"--it was you who killed those mercenaries, and, and you asked me if the story e-e-excited me--before you, before--" Andy wondered if she was actually about to throw up. She couldn't look up from her hands.

"I wondered if I'd regret telling you that someday," Mír said dryly.

"All those people," Andy gasped, "all those innocent people--you--"

"Innocent? Really? Who?" Suddenly Mír pulled Andy's hands away from her face, forcing her to look up. Her jaw was tightly set, and her blue eyes were relentless. "The mercenaries? Your father's soldiers--who made the choice to be soldiers, who accepted the dangers when they signed up for the job? Just as I did, and my own people did?"

Andy wrenched her hands free and scuttled back against the arm of the couch. "But there've been others!" she said. "Nobody's seen your face--everyone knows you leave no survivors--"

"I let no one go," Mír said. "That's true. Soldiers are killed; civilians are captured and enslaved. If they don't know anything and are wealthy enough, they're ransomed; if they resist, they are also killed. I don't pretend I'm a good person, Andren, or a kind one, or a merciful one." She tilted her head to the side, her blue eyes still boring through Andy. "Except to you."

Andy froze. "Me?" she whispered.

Mír rose gracefully to her feet and began to walk around the sofa, hands clasped behind her back--prowling, almost, much like she had the night after the banquet, when that man had said she'd needed whipping. Only now she didn't seem furious. Not exactly. Just sort of…tense.

"I appear to have developed an unaccountable weakness for you," she said. "Of course, you were kind to me. Foolishly kind. But that means nothing."

Andy's jaw dropped. "It doesn't?" How could being kind to someone 'mean nothing'?

Mír did not reply. Instead, she chuckled again, gazing out the enormous window at the control tower. "I'll never forget the sight of you, waving your little coffee branch at that idiot sentry and telling him to apologize for being so rude to me. Oh, my."

Was…was Mír making fun of her? _Now?_ "He wasn't an idiot if he caught you trying to sneak out," Andy snapped.

"True enough, I suppose," Mír acknowledged with a tilt of her head. "Should he have struck me?"

"No!" Andy said, before she could think better of it. Then she hunched her shoulders and mumbled, "No," again.

"No?"

"You--" Andy grimaced. "You couldn't fight back. As far as he knew, you were just a slave. He didn't have any right to hit you." She swallowed hard. "That's not how people should behave to each other."

Mír regarded her for a long moment, as inscrutable as ever. Then she said, "I can't believe you gave me all your money."

_"Oh,"_ Andy moaned, and hid her face in her hands again.

"It's come in handy," Mír laughed.

"I let you go," Andy choked. "I set you free."

"And I do appreciate it."

"You've been, you've been marauding again, and killing people, and it's my fault--I was the one who--"

"Don't flatter yourself," Mír said, though not unkindly. "I certainly would have escaped soon. Your father's death simply precipitated matters. I remain sorry for your loss, by the way."

"Thank you," Andy said to her lap.

"I often wonder," Mír said, "if perhaps I could have escaped sooner than I did." For the first time, her voice sounded uncertain. Hesitant, even. "If I'd…tried a little harder."

"I'm sure you could have," Andy said, still looking at her lap. "You can do anything. You always could." She'd fooled Andy--or Andy had just been too blind to see the truth which, in retrospect, seemed so obvious. She'd even made Andy love her like it was easy, like it was nothing at all.

"You didn't have to," Andy said, finally telling Mír out loud what she'd thought to herself for weeks. "You didn't have to g-go to bed with me." Then she raised her head and looked right at Mír as she said, "That was an awful thing for you to do--a terrible thing--" Because it was. All of a sudden, in spite of everything, it seemed like the most awful thing Mír, the pirate queen, had ever done: seduced Andy, made Andy think she was cared for, and broken her heart. For no reason at all. "I would have let you go anyway if you'd asked!"

"I know," Mír said.

"What?" Andy stared at her. Mír's face, as always, gave nothing away. "Then why--how could you?" Had she just done it for _fun?_

"I wondered that many times," Mír said, and looked away again, this time gazing thoughtfully at the fountain in the center of the room. "I always knew that you would free me, Andren, if you were able. I realized that very quickly." She tapped her lips with her be-ringed finger. Andy realized now that it was a signet ring. "I knew that, if anything, making you attached to me would make it harder for you to release me. Not easier."

"I did, though," Andy said. "Because I--" She squeezed her eyes shut. "You said I don't know anything about love. But I bet I know a whole lot more about it than you do." She swallowed down a sob that was doing its best to work free. She wondered if her head was about to explode.

Mír returned to the couch, standing in front of Andy. "Do you love me?" she said, as if it was the simplest question in the world.

"I don't know," Andy said, shaking at her nearness. "You--you said you didn't want me to."

"I never said that," Mír said. "I said many things, but never that." Andy felt Mír's fingers combing gently through her hair. She felt like she ought to move away, move her head, but she couldn't quite manage it. She was having trouble breathing again. "I knew it was a bad idea to make you care for me. And I knew I was doing exactly that." Her fingers never stopped. "I couldn't resist." Andy trembled and stared down at her lap. Mír's voice was dropping into the low, hypnotic purr that only meant one thing. "I believe I've mentioned on more than one occasion that I find you irresistible, in fact."

"Oh, please don't," Andy managed. "Please, not now." Because she felt dirty. She felt dirty that Mír, who'd done so many terrible things and who'd deceived her so thoroughly, could touch her and still make her skin hungry. Something had to be wrong with her.

"No?" Mír inquired, her fingertips dropping down to stroke Andy's cheek. Andy bit her lip. Then, to her surprise, Mír pulled her hand away and cleared her throat. "Well. Yes. I do have more to say."

"Okay," Andy managed, breathless with relief at her reprieve. Maybe she could get her head together a little if Mír didn't touch her, didn't stand so close.

"I had not planned to come here so quickly," Mír said. "I knew your father's legacy would endure a while longer. I knew your station would not welcome me as the others have."

"Oh, yeah," Andy said, looking up again and welcoming the new topic. She needed to put off thinking about…about the other thing for just a little longer. "How did you get in so easily? I know my dad left better safeguards than that!"

Mír almost looked apologetic. "Do you remember that stack of your father's documents? That you kept by the bed?"

This time Andy didn't speak. She just wailed as she covered her eyes yet again.

"It's not your fault," Mír said. "You didn't know that he'd left sensitive information on those chips. I'm sure he didn't mean to. But his carelessness worked in my favor."

"My dad wasn't careless!"

"People are many things when they're near death." Mír sighed. "Did you even notice what I'd taken?"

"No," Andy said miserably. "I hadn't looked through them all before you left." She hadn't had time.

"I thought not," Mír said. Then she repeated, "It's not your fault. It's his, if it's anyone's."

"It's yours!" Andy cried out, looking up again. "You're the one who stole them!"

"Mine? Oh, no," Mír said, shaking her head. "I am not to be blamed for seizing a tactical advantage. Although…" She trailed off, before continuing in a slightly strained tone, "perhaps I am to be blamed for using it prematurely." She tapped her foot. "It would have been wiser to wait a few months longer before coming here. I know this. My crew knows it. Though they never question me, of course."

"Then why did you do it?"

Mír just looked at her. And kept looking.

Andy stared back, and then swallowed very hard, feeling like she'd never be able to move again. "Me?" she said.

"I haven't been sleeping well, either," Mír said, and glanced out of the huge window again. This time her chuckle was bitter. "I always slept well when you were there. You wouldn't believe how often I've kicked myself for not bringing you with me when you asked." She shrugged. "Though that would have been unwise at the time. I didn't know what was going to happen. How safe I could keep you."

"Lord Koll said I was all you were asking him for," Andy said.

"So far," Mír said. "I will have more from him. But yes. You were the first thing I wanted."

The first thing. Not person. Thing.

"Am I your slave now?" Andy whispered.

Mír regarded her thoughtfully. "That would be a neat trick, wouldn't it?" she said. "Our roles reversed. Very tidy. I began as your slave; you end as mine."

"You were never my slave," Andy said. "You were my dad's. I n-never thought of you that way, ever--I let you go--"

"Yes. You did." Mír's gaze grew even sharper. Andy cringed. "What is a slave, I wonder?" Mír continued. "Certainly I will never call you 'Slave.' I will never deprive you of your name. I will never force you to do anything--not even to share my bed, if you refuse. Will you, by the way?"

"I, I don't know," Andy stammered, wondering if she could refuse if Mír touched her again, and even if she should. It was probably a terrible idea to refuse pirate queens something they wanted. She remembered yet again the story of the mercenaries who had tried to deny Mír what she'd demanded--and how that had ended for them.

Mír never turned her eyes away. "Well, then," she said. "You'll keep your name. You'll keep your will. You'll have your own servants and slaves to attend you--you will have everything you ask for."

"I…no, I don't--"

"Except one thing," Mír said.

Andy froze.

"I will never let you go," Mír said. "Do you understand? Do not ask me. It won't happen." She tilted her head to the side. "Is that what truly makes a slave? The inability to come and go as you please? I haven't decided."

Andy tried to speak. She couldn't. She had no idea what to say to that.

Mír's penetrating gaze was turning into something else--something even sharper and more intent, more predatory. She glided towards the couch again, stalking Andy just like she'd stalked her through the garden. Only now Andy had nowhere to hide.

"I really can't seem to do without you," she said. "Do you know what it was like? Realizing that?" She actually seemed angry, and Andy shrank back against the couch cushions. "Wanting you sexually--that I can certainly accept. I've told you many times how desirable you are." She stroked Andy's chin, her touch somewhere between a caress and a pinch. "If others could see you as I have seen you…everyone would want you. Everyone."

"No," Andy managed. "I mean, I really don't think so." She looked down at herself and realized for the first time that she had dirt from her garden on her nightgown, and that her hair was probably a fright. "Um."

"No?" Mír murmured. A shiver ran up and down Andy's spine; the purring tone was back. "I disagree."

"I…I…"

"But it wasn't just that. No, that did not vex me at all," Mír continued. "It was _you._ With those stupid leaves in your hair, and not knowing how to talk to anyone at all, and those damn plants you love like your own children--I've never seen anyone like you. Not in my life. Not with the way I live." She suddenly looked bewildered as she said, "Are there many others like you? Even in some place far away from violence and fear--I can't imagine it. And yet." Her eyes suddenly gleamed. "You took so naturally to sex. And just how eager were you to brain my guardsman?"

Before Andy could reply, Mír took both of her hands in a very strong grip and sat next to her on the couch. Andy squeaked.

"I have to have you," Mír said, almost gently, as if she was breaking bad news to someone. "You have to be mine. You are mine."

"Have me--" Andy closed her eyes and shook her head. "No. That's not love. That's not…"

"I don't know if I'm capable of love, as you define it," Mír said. "I don't think I love like that." She pulled Andy's hands, sliding Andy closer to her on the couch. Andy, who kept her eyes resolutely shut, felt the heat of Mír's body almost atop her own. "It doesn't matter. I've tried to tell you this before--we don't need love. You're mine and I'm yours. That's the way it works in here."

"What does that even mean?" Andy said. "I don't get to leave the room?"

"Do you want to?" Mír sounded both amused and astonished. "You?"

"I could always leave before, if I wanted," Andy said, opening her eyes and looking pleadingly at Mír. "That's different. You know it is."

"I do know it," Mír acknowledged. "Of course you may leave the room. You may go anywhere you like on the ship. As for beyond the ship…we'll work that out later." She glanced towards the space station. "I certainly wouldn't recommend it right now."

"Can I at least tell someone to take care of my garden?" Andy said, hunching her shoulders and wishing her hands were free. Wishing for a lot of things. "I mean…sometimes the nurses stopped by when--" She cut herself off.

"Nurses," Mír said, because of course she never missed anything. "You have been sick. Were you hospitalized?"

"I don't want to talk about it!" Andy cried, and yanked her hands from Mír's grip. "I just want to know if someone will take care of my plants!" She felt something hot and awful building up in her throat. A sob, maybe. Or a scream.

"I'll make sure of it," Mír sighed. Then she smiled, obviously trying to make Andy feel better. "We'll bring a few of your more portable specimens here to tide you over." Andy took a deep breath and nodded, trying not to shake herself to death. "I can even stand to have that praying mantis around my quarters," Mír added. "What was his name again? Cridley?"

Andy clapped both hands over her mouth and finally burst into tears.

"All right," Mír said after a moment, "evidently I shouldn't have mentioned Cridley."

"Cranli," Andy moaned. "I k-k-killed him. I just woke up and I was in the dirt and I'd smashed him all to pieces with a rock--I muh-murdered him--"

"Andren--"

"--and then I forgot to eat and that's when I woke up in the hospital and he was my favorite and why did I do that, why did I do that, why--"

"Oh, my," Mír said, sighed again, and stood up, tugging Andy to her feet as well. She pulled Andy's hands away from her face. "Take a deep breath," she said, in the tone Andy automatically obeyed. The tone everybody automatically obeyed, apparently. "Exhale," Mír reminded her sharply, and Andy did. "Now. Again." Andy did it again. "Better?" Andy nodded wordlessly, even though it wasn't better at all.

"You need to get some rest," Mír continued. "You appear to be a little overwhelmed. Understandable, I suppose." Andy nodded again, and swallowed hard. "And I must meet with your stationmaster, this so-called Lord Koll." She sneered. "If he thinks he'll be getting a 'My Lord' from me…well."

"He told me I didn't know anything about military tactics," Andy mumbled, and swayed a little. "I mean, I don't, of course."

"I expect you could manage, if you cared to learn," Mír said, giving her a little smile. "I expect you have many surprises left for me yet. Come along." She took Andy by the arm and led her back to the bedroom. "I know we woke you in the middle of the night. Sleep now."

Andy stared blankly at the bed. Her bed, now? Or what?

Mír, reading her thoughts, pushed her bangs off her forehead again and gave her that same resigned, almost-apologetic smile. "You'll sleep with me at night," she said. "Sex or no sex. Again, I'm afraid I absolutely insist on that point."

"Oh," Andy said. "Okay." She glanced at the bed again, and remembered how good it had felt when Assistant's--Mír's--arms had wrapped around her every night, and wondered if it would feel quite so good now, after everything that had happened.

"I'll return as soon as I can," Mír said briskly. "You have free access to anything in our quarters, although I strongly suggest you don't try wandering around the ship just yet. There are clothes for you in the closet." She gestured towards a whole wall of paneled doors.

"Okay," Andy said again. "Thanks." She sat down on the edge of the mattress because her legs were about to give out. Then she looked up again, and saw Mír standing in front of her, looking down at her with the same bemused expression she'd often worn as Assistant: puzzled, tender, and curious all at once. She wasn't dead. She was alive. _Alive_.

"B-be careful," she heard herself say. "At your meeting."

"I will," Mír said, looking more amused than ever.

Andy wiped her nose on the back of her hand and sniffled. Mír winced. "Just, before you go," Andy said thickly, "maybe you could tell me, um, what you're doing. With taking over the space stations, and…and rebelling…and all." She blinked. "I mean, when I didn't know it was you, I thought--but now I don't know what to think." About anything.

"You haven't guessed? I'm surprised. We'll talk more about it later." Mír brushed out a wrinkle from her skirt and swept towards the open door. Then she looked over her shoulder at Andy with a diabolical little smile. "But don't you think 'Empress Mír' sounds rather…I don't know, natural?"

Andy's jaw dropped, but then Mír was gone, and Andy was too stunned and exhausted to follow her. She sat on the mattress, staring at the doorway until she heard the outer door of Mír's vast chamber open and shut.

Then she stared at the huge bed, in the huge bedroom, adjacent to the hugest room of all, and suddenly felt very tiny and alone. That probably never happened to Mír. This was probably the only place on the ship capable of containing her. Andy staggered to the wall and pressed the button to shut the bedroom door, to close off a little of that enormity. It helped. Some.

More than anything, she felt tired.

Sleep. Rest. That was a good idea, actually. Lacking any other sensible alternative, Andy crawled back into the enormous bed, pulled the covers over her, and fell asleep at once.

* * *

When she woke up, she knew she'd been dreaming, but she couldn't remember what about. She didn't think it had been about doorways or stars or anything like that, though. The clock told her the time, but that didn't help much since she'd forgotten to look at it before going to sleep. How long had she been out?

Still half-asleep, she got up and stumbled to the adjacent bathroom which, like everything else, was huge. The bathtub could comfortably hold five people. And to think Andy had believed that her own quarters must have been such a revelation for a slave used to serving on tiny pirate ships.

She used the toilet, showered (avoiding the tub), and almost managed to avoid thinking too. The hot, pounding spray felt wonderful, and when she was done she felt much more human. She wrapped herself in a towel and wandered back into the bedroom, looking around apprehensively in case Mír had returned during her shower. She hadn't. Andy relaxed.

Remembering what Mír had said about fresh clothes, Andy pressed the button to open up the closet doors. Then, as they hummed and hissed open, she gasped. There were racks, and rows, and behind them more racks and rows, and…she certainly hoped that most of these clothes were Mír's, and not intended for Andy. Was that actually a hallway down the middle?

Andy blindly grabbed for a plain green dress. After locating some underwear in a drawer (one of several), she dressed herself with shaking hands. Then she decided that she felt marginally more capable of facing that vast, empty room by herself, and headed through the door.

The _Crown Lily_ still faced the space station. Andy shivered and hugged herself, rubbing her arms although the room's temperature was reasonably warm. Not quite warm enough for her plants, though. Maybe that's why she felt cold. Just the difference of a few degrees from what she was used to made it seem chilly.

She thought about going back for a shawl, and shuddered at the idea of braving that closet again. Instead she looked at the station's control tower and wondered what was going on over there. Had the pirates completely occupied it? Was Mír still "meeting with" Lord Koll? Had the station tried to put up any resistance? Was anyone hurt?

Andy wondered again, with much more trepidation, how long she'd been asleep. She'd told Mír to be careful. But what if something had happened? Well, the ships and the station weren't firing at each other, and there were no red alerts or signs of anything wrong. So all was probably well.

But Andy had been grieving for over a month now, inching through days that felt like they'd never end. And even if 'Assistant' hadn't been who Andy had thought she was, the thought of losing her again, of mourning her again, just when she'd found her again--Andy realized she couldn't bear it. Mír had to be okay. Andy began to shake, and grabbed her arms even harder, taking deep breaths just like before.

Then she went to the fountain, sat down on the edge, and gazed into the trickling, tinkling water. That made her feel better. It was very soothing. She'd never thought about putting a fountain in her garden--it wouldn't have been very useful, and would just have gotten in her way--but this one was pretty. She reached her hand in, and swirled it through the water, watching the ripples shine and flow.

Mír had said that Andy had free access to everything in their rooms. Their rooms. Andy's too, now, whether she wanted them or not. Did she want them? Well…maybe she'd like it better if she could convince Mír to put up a wall somewhere, Andy thought, and hugged her knees to her chest, shivering. It was just too darn big in here. What the place needed was some trees.

_"I really can't seem to do without you."_

Mír had said that like it was some kind of regrettable truth. Andy supposed it was, for her. It probably wasn't a good idea to get too attached to people when you were a pirate queen. Or to get used to thinking of people as people, instead of objects to be torn through on your way to a goal. Mír had said she didn't love in the way that Andy did. That might be true.

Only Andy hadn't been so hot at doing without Mír either, during the last month or so. She'd learned what rage was like, and had learned how to hate people, how to want to kill them. And before that, she'd learned about love and desire and joy and fear and grief and…she really hadn't been alive at all before her new "slave" had arrived in her quarters, had she? Andy couldn't forget how she'd felt at seeing Mír just a few…hours?...ago in this very room. Like the nightmare was over. She didn't like to think that maybe a new one had just started in its place.

_"I will never let you go. Do you understand?"_

Andy shuddered. No. She didn't understand. Oh, well, she understood the urge to keep someone you cared about near you. But she could never actually do it. She could never have kept Mír enslaved on the station, no matter how much she needed her company. How could Mír do the same to her? Why not just ask Andy to stay?

Because Andy would. Her dad was dead. The space station, her home, was besieged. Even her garden might be lost forever. Mír was all she had left. And Andy did love her. More than ever, maybe, and in spite of everything, knowing what it was like to live without her. But it would be nice to have a choice. To pretend she had one.

The front door hissed open. Andy jerked her hand out of the fountain with a soft splashing noise as the door closed again behind Mír, who stood in the doorway for a moment and silently regarded Andy. She looked a little tired, but unharmed.

Andy's heart lightened in relief at seeing her safe and sound. She unlocked her knees and scrambled to her feet, shaking loose drops of water from her fingertips. "Hi," she said, and tried a smile.

"Hello," Mír said, and began walking towards Andy, the black silk of her gown rustling as she moved. Andy remembered her from the holos--clad in black armor and helm, always from a distance. It'd looked pretty natural on her, that was for sure. But so did the dress, and personally, Andy was really glad that Mír wasn't wearing any scary armor right now.

"Are you feeling better?" Mír asked.

Andy suddenly blushed as she remembered the way she'd carried on before falling asleep. "Yes," she said. "I mean, I think so."

"Have you eaten anything?"

Andy blinked. "I-I'm not hungry, really," she said. Mír looked displeased, and Andy remembered her skin-and-bones remark. "And I didn't know there was food," she added hastily.

"There is an intercom," Mír said, sounding testy. She'd drawn level with Andy now, and Andy was already starting to shiver from her proximity. "It works just like it does back in your quarters."

Andy looked around the room and, sure enough, there was an intercom near the gigantic desk. "I just got up," she said feebly. "Really. How long were you gone?"

"Four hours," Mír said, and glanced out the window towards the space station. "I have what I need. We'll depart soon."

Andy decided that this was not the best time to ask about her plants. Instead, she said, "Is everybody going? Are you going to leave any ships here?"

"No," Mír said. "There is more work to be done back in our little pocket of the Empire. I don't wish to overextend my forces by leaving some of them stranded out here by themselves. We got what we came for, and now we're leaving." Her eyes gleamed. "Although we'll be back."

"You said you wanted stuff besides me," Andy said hesitantly. "Like what?"

"Many things," Mír said, sounding careless--and then she reached out and hooked her arm around Andy's waist, pulling her in closer. Andy squeaked, Mír smirked, and Andy's heart began to pound. "Starting with those excellent star-charts in the Observatory. Those really were a revelation, when I saw them for the first time. We have nothing to equal them in the fleet." She smiled softly. "I memorized as much as I could. I can't tell you how useful some of those precise coordinates have proven. But it'll be nice to have all of them at my fingertips."

She slid her hand up and down Andy's back. Andy grabbed at her shoulders and squeaked again as their bodies pressed fully together. Mír said, "Speaking of what I have at my fingertips…"

Before Andy could say anything, Mír kissed her. It was gentle, but firm--open to taking no for an answer, but not assuming it outright.

Andy should say no. This was a bad idea. This was a really bad idea. She felt tired, used, hurt--she needed answers, reassurances--but--

A month. It had been over a month since Andy had felt this: this rush of melting heat, this sensation that could make her forget all about the other, more complicated, less pleasant things. She could stop thinking…she could just, just _feel_ for a little while…

She heard herself say "oh" very softly; heard Mír gasp; and then felt Mír's arms slide firmly around her and pull her in as close as could be. When the kiss ended, they were both panting.

Andy opened her eyes to see Mír looking at her, blue eyes hazy with desire. How could she have forgotten that predatory stare--how could she have been so dumb as to believe that someone like Mír would ever stoop to--

"You didn't have to," she said, feeling faint. Mír inhaled sharply. "With me. You knew you didn't have to. Y-you promise?"

"I didn't have to, then," Mír said, her eyes narrowing as she slid her hands up to Andy's chest, where her fingers tapped at the top button of the dress. "I have to now."

"Oh, golly," Andy whispered, and Mír made a noise that was half laugh and half moan as she kissed Andy again, tearing at the buttons on Andy's dress.

"Without this," she rasped, biting and sucking at the skin she uncovered, from Andy's throat down to her breasts. "Without this for a month." She took Andy's left nipple in her mouth with a moan, and Andy grabbed her head while her body came all the way back to life. She bent over and rubbed her nose in Mír's soft, white hair, gasping for air.

"Wh-why," she said, "I don't--why wouldn't you ever let me touch y--"

"You can," Mír panted, yanking Andy's dress down around her waist and sucking hard at her throat, like she'd always loved doing. "You can, but first let me--" She tugged and pushed, and soon enough Andy was sprawled beneath her on the floor, with Mír lying between her spread legs. "I have to--" Mír said, and set to kissing and touching Andy like she had on their last night together, going crazy with it, not stopping until Andy's new dress was practically in shreds and Andy was a breathless, sobbing puddle beneath her.

They did not end on the floor. After Mír had, temporarily, had her fill, she hauled Andy to her feet and tugged her on stumbling legs towards the bedroom. And then she pressed Andy on her back in the middle of the enormous bed so she could drive her fingers in and out of Andy while Andy writhed underneath her and Mír said _yes yes yes_. It was dark here, almost as dark as it had always been in Andy's room, and so there was nothing to focus on, nothing to cling to but what Mír was doing and the way she felt against Andy's body.

"Do you have any idea," Mír moaned into her ear, her fingers going faster and faster, "how many times I came while doing this to you? And never told you?" When Andy cried out, she breathed, "Oh, yes. Oh, yes, darling, yes I did." She curled her fingers, and Andy keened. "So pay attention now--" And she went stiff against Andy, giving a soft, shuddering little cry. Her fingers kept moving, but lost the rhythm; the cry turned into a groan. Realizing what was happening, what Mír was doing, Andy curled her body around that hand and let go with a wail of her own.

"Yes," Mír said again, her voice a hiss of triumph. "Yes. Made for this. Made for me." She kissed Andy's chest, panting gently as Andy finished. "Mine."

"Oh," Andy said, shaking everywhere. "Oh."

"Rest," Mír said, and dragged Andy's naked, shivering body against her clothed one, just as she used to do, just as if they'd never stopped. "Rest now. Mmm." She slid her hand up and down Andy's back. Andy wished there was more light--all she could see was the outline of Mír's body and face. "Did you miss this, too?"

Instead of replying, Andy slid her arms around Mír's shoulders and hid her face against Mír's neck. The truth was, she hadn't missed the sex as much as she had missed everything else; she'd been too sad, too lonely, too downright sick sometimes, to think about sex. Apparently Mír hadn't felt the same way. Although to be fair, Mír hadn't been going around believing that Andy was dead, either.

She'd just let Andy think _she_ was dead, that's all. She'd just let Andy think, for over a month, that she was dead, and that it had been Andy's fault for letting her go, and that Andy was alone in the universe, and…

"Couldn't you have told me?" Andy whispered.

"Told you?"

"That you were alive." Andy gulped. "That's all. I mean…not the whole truth…" She swallowed. "But didn't you know that I'd think you were dead? Didn't you know I'd hear about the freighter?" Mír's hands paused in their caress of her arms. "Maybe--maybe you could have just sent me something saying you were still alive--not telling me who you really were or anything, but, but--"

"Impractical," Mír said firmly. "Any transmissions from a pirate ship would instantly have been intercepted by your station. In fact, you would have gotten in a great deal of trouble if they thought you were communicating with pirates."

"I wouldn't have cared," Andy said. "I would rather have known." She would. She would have traded every plant, every seed in her garden, every drop of blood in her own body for the knowledge that Assistant--Mír--had been alive and well. She curled her hands into fists.

"I cared," Mír said. "It would have been much more difficult to snatch you from some Imperial brig than the safety of your own quarters. You might consider that."

"Oh," Andy said. "I hadn't thought of…you would have done that?"

"No," Mír said, "because I would have cunningly avoided the possibility in the first place by not sending you a message."

"Oh," Andy said again, wondering why this wasn't making her feel any better. Mír was alive. She had come back. She'd had good reasons for not telling Andy the truth. So why did Andy still feel as if she was about to come apart at the seams?

"For what it's worth," Mír reminded her, "I came for you as soon as I could. Sooner than I should have." Her fingernails scraped lightly against the skin on Andy's arm: gentle, but possessive, and with the hint of a threat.

"I…yeah," Andy said. "You, you did."

"I admit, I had no idea you'd be so upset," Mír said.

"What?" Andy struggled to sit up on her elbows. Surely Mír hadn't actually said-- "Are you kidding? You didn't--how could you _possibly--"_

"Possibly think you would have starved yourself?" Mír asked coolly. "Are you telling me I should have anticipated that?"

"I didn't do it on purpose," Andy said. "I wasn't thinking straight. I--" She swallowed hard. "I don't remember much about it. It was just that you were dead, and so was Dad, and I didn't, I didn't know what--I didn't know how--" Her voice cracked, and her throat grew thick at just the thought of how awful those days had been. "I just remember waking up in the hospital and they put a tube in my arm. I didn't…honestly, I didn't try to…"

"Well," Mír said, her voice a little too light. "That's all over now. Everything's all right."

"Is it?" Andy said.

"Of course it is. Why shouldn't it be?"

Andy lay for a moment in silence, struggling with herself, feeling her heart starting to beat even faster than when they'd been having sex. She wondered if Mír could feel it too, since she was lying so close.

Then she took her courage in both hands. This was hard, considering that she was currently the most frightened person in the known universe. Which was really only sensible when you were about to defy the most dangerous person in the known universe.

"It's not all right," Andy said, trembling, and wanting to hold on tight to Mír for comfort even as she knew that was the one thing she really shouldn't do right now.

"What?" Mír said.

Andy closed her eyes and swallowed hard. Then she whispered, "Will you really not let me go?"

Mír's hands abruptly clamped down on Andy's arms so hard that Andy knew there would be bruises shaped like fingerprints. But her voice was very even and calm when she said, "No. I told you not to ask."

"I know," Andy said. "But you really won't?"

Mír's grip was painful now. Andy didn't try to shake her off, or protest. "Don't be ridiculous, Andren. I said--don't make me repeat myself."

"I don't want to be your slave," Andy said, and wished she could stop trembling. But she couldn't help herself. She was terrified. She wanted to believe that Mír wouldn't hurt her, wouldn't punish her, and she had absolutely no reason to believe anything of the kind.

"Stop," Mír said. "I told you that you don't have to--you are not a slave."

Andy licked her lips. "So what am I?" she said. "A, a prisoner, then? I know you said--"

"Why are you talking like this?" Mír demanded, and for the first time since they'd met, Andy heard a crack in her voice, the barest hint of real distress.

"I just don't understand--"

"There is nothing to understand." Now Mír's voice was much too steady to be truly calm. "For God's sake, you almost starved to death without me."

Andy really wished she could deny it. "I didn't, though," she said. "I would have lived. It would have been awful, but I would have done it, I would have kept going. I was going to."

"I'm very glad to hear that," Mír said. "Keep going here."

"I will," Andy said. "I mean--I, I don't want to leave you--" What did she want? "I just want…" She had no idea. She didn't understand anything about life anymore, if she ever had.

"You want to believe people are decent," Mír said. "Isn't that right? Isn't that what you said to me, once?"

"Yes," Andy said. And she did, oh, how she still wanted to believe that.

Mír had not loosened her grip. Now she gave Andy a little shake. "I'm not," she said. "I am not like you. I do not want to be like you. The most I can do is to protect you from other people like me. And there are a lot of people like me." She leaned in until her nose touched Andy's cheek. Andy could feel her breath, could nearly feel the edge of her teeth. "Listen to me. _I will give you everything you want."_ She shook Andy again. "Things you didn't even know you wanted."

"You're hurting my arms," Andy said, trembling again. "I--what do you think you're going to give me, exactly?"

"The Empire!" Mír snarled, and finally let go of her. Andy flopped back down against the mattress with a little yelp, her arms throbbing, while Mír sat up and glared down at her in the darkness. "What are you pining for? Your little room full of plants? By the time I'm through, you'll have that thieving Senior Royal Botanist licking your shoes for forgiveness. By the time I'm through, I'll have built an empire that your father would have been proud to serve and defend--"

"He was proud! He--"

"Rightfully proud," Mír spat. "Are you incapable of thinking on so large a scale? Or do you think I'm incapable of doing this?"

"No," Andy said at once. "I already told you, I know you can do anything. I--" She sat up too, rubbing her arms. "But how am I supposed to help you? I mean, what good am I about any of that? I just do stuff with plants!"

"Plants can be more useful than you think," Mír said, sounding slightly calmer now that Andy had given her something else to focus on. "Crops. Fuel. You were the one working on a hardier pea, weren't you? Saying that you wanted it to be of use to someone?" She sighed. "You'll be of use to me. In that, and other ways." She took Andy's hand. Her grip wasn't painful this time, but it was definitely firm. "I need you with me. I need you here." Mír slid her arms around Andy's waist again, bending to kiss her face. "Don't ask me to do what I can't do," she muttered against Andy's skin. "I can't do everything. Believe it or not."

Andy didn't know what she'd expected, really. The woman in her arms would not change. Would never change. Would never offer her any easy answers. And yet…

She swallowed hard. Everything Mír said about not letting her go, about Andy not asking for her freedom, communicated more than Mír meant it to. By offering her the Empire she was, in fact, offering Andy the choice; by trying to convince her, she was pleading with Andy to stay, not ordering her. She couldn't order her. They both knew that.

Mír talked a good game. She always had. But this one time, Andy knew she was bluffing. If Andy begged, if she asked for it with enough sincerity…Mír would let her go.

"The Kazir will come," Mír said, her lips still moving against Andy's cheek. "They'll come and the Empire will crumble if nothing is done. Is that what you want?"

Another plea. "Of course not!"

"Stay with me, then. Do your part." Mír's voice suddenly dripped with bitterness. "What if I tell you it's your patriotic duty? Will that help?"

"It's not…no," Andy said, "I mean, it wouldn't be a duty."

"No?" Mír said. "Then what would it be?"

Alive, Andy thought. She was alive again. Confused and scared and with achy arms, but she was alive again. They both were. Alive together.

"I do love you," she said. "Don't tell me I don't. You don't have any right to say tha--"

Mír kissed her. Hard. And then, to Andy's surprise, she rolled over on her back, bringing Andy to lie atop her. A soft, breathless 'gosh' escaped Andy before she could stop herself. Mír snorted, but this time it didn't sound quite as bitter.

Then Mír took Andy's hand again, and guided it upwards until Andy's knuckles were brushing Mír's cheek, and then her throat. Andy gasped, and felt her body flood with heat yet again as she realized what was happening.

"Well. Speaking of giving you what you want," Mír said, and the faint tremble in her voice belied her cool tone. She amended, "What we both want."

"Why wouldn't you let me before?" Andy whispered, her eyes fluttering shut as she slid her hand down the side of Mír's throat. Mír shivered, reached up, and unhooked the straps of her own gown; Andy heard the ping of the clasps releasing, and the slither of silk falling loose, unveiling the bare skin beneath. Her face caught fire.

"I had my reasons," Mír said, her voice hoarse with promise. "Those reasons don't matter now. Let's leave it at that." She touched Andy's cheek. "You're a scientist," she said. "Show me what you've learned by observation."

Andy thought, vaguely, that she should be smooth, subtle, take her time. But the idea was fleeting and insubstantial and unimportant as she bent down, pushed the silk down to Mír's waist, and kissed Mír's left breast, feeling the nipple shrivel and shrink beneath her tongue with a dizzy sense of wonder. "Oh," Mír cried out, and arched up.

Andy had already figured out that she wanted to do this a whole lot more, and wished that Mír hadn't kept it from her for so long. She moved her tongue again, and Mír actually whimpered; she began to suck, trying to be gentle, and Mír moaned and grabbed Andy's hair. "Is this," Andy panted against her, "I mean, do you…"

"Oh," Mír rasped, and shuddered. "You're--a quick study--"

"I've been thinking about it a long time," Andy said shyly, brushing her lips again over Mír's soft skin. She let her hand wander down lower, over Mír's ribs and abdomen--and paused when her fingertips encountered a thin, smooth line. A scar. She paused.

"That's not the only one," Mír said. "You'll see them all soon enough." She did not sound embarrassed or ashamed: quite the contrary. "I wish I could say I got them all doing something heroic."

"I wish you could say you won't get any more," Andy said, her fingers trembling as she touched the scar again.

"I assure you, I do my best to avoid it," Mír said. Then she reached up and dug her fingers into the hair near the back of Andy's neck. It hurt a little.

"Stay with me," she said. "Stay."

Andy shivered, bent down, pressed her forehead against Mír's. It was as close to a request as Mír would ever come. And there were scars, and there was war, and they were alive together now, but you never knew--you never could tell--

This was painful and confusing and weird. But Andy wouldn't undo it. She wouldn't go back to being Andy from twenty-four hours ago, who'd thought Mír was dead, who'd slept alone beneath her trees. She would stay here, put down roots here, and be with the person she loved, and who loved her too. Who did love her. Whatever happened next.

"Okay," she whispered.

She hadn't quite realized how tense Mír had been until she relaxed beneath Andy. "Good," she said. "Good."

They stayed like that, breathing together, for a long, silent moment. Then Mír shifted impatiently. "So," she said, "were you planning to call it a night?"

"Oh!" Andy said, and blushed. "No, not yet." Definitely not yet. She bent and kissed Mír's throat again, very gently, until Mír trembled too. "You, you have to tell me what to do," Andy added.

Mír sat up, and with a _shuff_ of silk, tossed her dress cleanly off the bed. Then she pulled Andy close, and Andy's mind went completely blank as she was pressed up against another person's naked body for the first time in her life. Their breasts rubbed together. She gasped.

"Why don't I just show you," Mír whispered, and kissed her again.

 

**EIGHT YEARS LATER**

Ambassador Bors relaxed back in his seat with a feeling of wary approval. The negotiations had been a success, and the Empress had not been as entirely unreasonable as her predecessor. Which was good--neither was she as vulnerable. Had she wished to pursue war instead of peace, the Kazir would have had a more difficult time of it than Bors liked to think.

"A drink?" the Empress asked, and when Bors inclined his head, she gestured at a servant. They said she kept no slaves at her court: one of her many eccentricities. It was possible that the man who filled Bors's goblet was actually paid to do so. Bors couldn't understand it, himself, but he supposed it was none of his business.

"To the peace," the Empress said, and they raised their glasses. There would be many more toasts at the banquet tonight, given by officials in varying degrees of intoxicated pomposity, but Bors doubted any of them would be as heartfelt as this one shared by two exhausted, triumphant people. It was not unpleasant to drink with this Empress. Nor, if he were to be honest, was it unpleasant to look at her: she was a superb example of her species, even if she was past her prime. Well, in all fairness, so was Bors. He wondered if she thought he had aged well, too. He believed he had; his scales were as supple and iridescent as they had been in his youth, and he hoped she appreciated them, as he appreciated her own beauty.

"Are you anticipating the banquet?" she asked, with something like laughter in her eyes.

"I'm anticipating sleeping well afterwards," Bors said, and the Empress smiled. She had a disconcerting smile--there was something about it that made him profoundly uncomfortable, even when it seemed genuinely meant.

At that moment, the door chimed, and the servant hurried out. He returned in a moment, bowing respectfully. "Your Majesty," he said, "Lady Andren wonders if you have a free moment."

The Empress scowled, and rubbed at her forehead. "I knew she'd forget I was in a meeting," she said.

"Our business is concluded until tonight, Your Majesty," Bors said, deciding to make a gracious exit. "Do not let me detain you further."

"No, stay," she said, and waved her hand. "Send her in," she said to the servant, and then added to Bors, "I would like you to meet my consort."

"Oh," Bors said, settling back into his chair with renewed interest. Rumors circulated within and beyond Mír's empire about the Imperial Consort: Lady Andren, the little gardener who'd kept the all-powerful Empress enthralled for almost a decade now. Some said she was mad, or simple, or childlike; others said she was kind, and decent, and refreshingly guileless. Nobody, however, said that she was a natural choice for an imperial consort.

Within the moment, Bors saw why. A young woman hurried into the room without seeming to notice him. Her hair was disheveled, and she had…was that mud all over the hem of her skirt?

"Hey," Lady Andren said breathlessly, and bent down to kiss the Empress on the cheek. For her part, the Empress looked resigned, but not angry. Perhaps even a little amused. "Are you busy?" She glanced over and saw Bors. "Oh!" She straightened up and brushed her skirt down, appearing self-conscious. "Oh, gosh--you told me about this meeting, didn't you? I'm sorry. Is this the Kazir ambassador?" Before the Empress could reply, Lady Andren extended her hand to Bors with a big smile. She had dirt underneath her fingernails. "Hi. I'm Andy."

"Ambassador Bors," the Empress said dryly, "permit me to introduce you to Her Excellency, the Imperial Consort and Senior Royal Botanist." Her eyes danced with laughter. This was obviously not the first time she had made such an introduction.

Bors gingerly took Lady Andren's hand. "A pleasure, my lady," he said, trying to keep the incredulity out of his voice. He'd heard that the surest way to start a war was to insult Lady Andren in front of the Empress, and he refused to think that the last six months of negotiations had been for nothing.

"Oh, thanks," Lady Andren said, and turned back to the Empress without further ado, her eyes shining. "The fuel cells work! _Mustopher illis_ synthesizes so much faster. I just sent it off to the lab. We should know by tomorrow!"

"Wonderful," the Empress said, and patted Lady Andren on the hip. "I suppose this means you'll be making a non-appearance at the banquet?"

"Oh golly, I forgot," Lady Andren said, looking acutely distressed. "I'm going to be so--do you want me to come?"

"If you could be there for the first round of toasts before your headache develops," the Empress said, "I'd appreciate it."

"First round of toasts. Okay. Eighth hour, right?"

"Seventh."

"Oh. Seventh. Right. Got it." Lady Andren's brow furrowed in concentration as she obviously tried to commit this to memory.

"Don't forget this time," the Empress said sternly.

"I won't. I'm so sorry about last time. It's just that I have so much to do before I go to the conference next week," Lady Andren said, wincing. "I'll make sure somebody reminds me by sixth hour."

"See that you do," the Empress said, and sent a meaningful look to the servant by the door. He clearly understood that he would be the one to remind Lady Andren (or suffer the royal displeasure), and nodded.

"I will. I'll see you at the banquet!" Lady Andren said, and bent down to peck the Empress on the lips. The Empress patted her hip again, and Andren flew out the door, just barely remembering to give Bors a nod as she left. Bors stared after her, feeling rather as if he'd just staggered out of a brief, bewildering whirlwind.

When he turned around, the Empress was watching him from beneath hooded eyes.

"Thank you for introducing me," Bors said, unaccountably nervous. "I…what is this conference Her Ladyship is attending?"

"Some botany thing," the Empress said, volunteering no further information as to place or time. Bors was not surprised. He had heard that the Imperial Consort did not travel a great deal, though whether from her own inclination or the Empress's protectiveness, he did not know. He did know that his apparent curiosity about Lady Andren had brought out something fierce in the Empress's eyes, and he abruptly remembered that, less than a decade ago, this refined and elegant monarch had been the most bloodthirsty pirate in the known galaxy.

"She's pregnant," the Empress added.

Bors, long practiced in diplomacy, needed less than a second to collect his wits and say, "My sincerest congratulations."

"Thank you." The Empress tapped her fingertips on her desk. "She is nearly three months along. But you can't really see it yet."

Indeed you couldn't. Human reproduction was still something of a mystery to Bors. "The birth of the heir will be great cause for celebration," he said delicately, already planning to alert his masters to this bit of news as soon as he returned to his suite. Everyone had wondered what would happen to Mír's empire after her death. Apparently she'd decided on a plan.

"Indeed it will," the Empress said, confirming his suspicions with the merest lift of her eyebrows. "It's time for the news to get out. You might as well hear it from the source." She gave him a sour little smile, and Bors reflected that she was not exactly the image of impending, radiant motherhood. "We do what we must."

"Er…yes," Bors said, and cleared his throat. "I have six offspring myself. They're blessings." And would have their own clutches soon enough. Bors wondered why the Empress had put off reproducing for so long.

The Empress smiled blandly. "I'm sure they are." It suddenly occurred to Bors that she was not the sort of woman to share her mate with their brood, and he caught himself hoping that the royal nursery employed excellent nannies. Then the Empress rose to her feet, and he scrambled to do the same. "Don't let me detain you further, Ambassador. Please enjoy your rest before our little gathering tonight."

"Indeed I will, Your Majesty," Bors said, and bowed. "And you as well."

"I'd better," the Empress said with a sigh. "It will be a late evening. And I promised Andren I'd look at these fuel cells once she got them working. I wager you anything that I'll spend tomorrow morning on my knees in the dirt."

Bors tried his very best to imagine this. And failed. Instead, he nodded and smiled as respectfully as he could without actually laughing, and then bowed as he took his leave.

An odd pair, he thought to himself as he returned to his quarters. An odd pair; an odd marriage; an odd arrangement altogether, really, even to the producing of the heir. But it appeared to be working. Everything about the Empire appeared to be working. Certainly Bors hoped his people never had to contend with Mír's power.

Although if they did, and if they lost, perhaps she wouldn't be as monstrous as she'd been painted. She'd been all gentleness with Lady Andren. She was not, Bors thought, a woman without pity. Without mercy. Surely?

Well…perhaps. But really, Bors thought as his door closed behind him, he would prefer not to find out for himself.

Fin.

* * *


End file.
